


complications.

by shionz



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: (light), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Barista Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21557989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shionz/pseuds/shionz
Summary: "Do you mean that?""What?"“You prefer to be alone?"Nezumi didn’t hesitate to respond, like the reply was programmed into his mind by now."Absolutely. Company comes with complications. I’m not a fan of people.”The one where Nezumi hates everyone and an obnoxious barista ruins his life in the best way.
Relationships: Nezumi & Shion (No. 6), Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

Nezumi couldn’t breathe.

His face was hot, his blood was boiling, his lungs felt like they were collapsing inside of him, and all he could do was scream and slam his bloodied fists against the pavement. 

The roar of chaos around him filled his head until it felt like his eardrums were about to burst, and he couldn't do anything about it. But that didn’t matter, this wasn’t about him. 

He was safe. 

He hadn’t been home when it happened, and somehow that made the situation even worse. 

He sat there on his knees and watched through blurry eyes as it crumbled before him, gasping for air as everyone simply pushed him out of the way. He screamed and screamed; so far from the fire, yet it felt like the flames were dancing across his face, burning him alive.

In a way, that’s exactly what was happening. His childhood was burning to the ground right in front of him, a massive piece of him disappearing before his eyes so violently, and he couldn’t help the next cry that escaped his throat. 

He fell forward and put his hands out to catch himself, feeling the rocks digging into his flesh as he vomited onto the ground below him. His throat was raw and it leaked out of his nose, and all he could do was fall back and lie on the road, wishing for it all to end.

He pictured his mother realizing what was happening, his father trying to stop it from spreading, their desperate attempts to escape, and failing.

He pictured the smoke filling their lungs and the terror they felt knowing their efforts were futile, and Nezumi felt like he was breathing right along with them. His chest tightened and his eyes squeezed shut as he cried.

He pictured his beautiful, loving parents burning alive and screaming in horror as they succumbed to the flames. The framework of the house, the _home_ , they built together crushing them as the flesh melted off their bones. As they turned to dust. As they died. 

And just like that, all emotion left Nezumi at once. Like someone had sucked it directly out of him with a vacuum, and he felt his entire body go cold. The tears stopped. 

He was numb.

He knew from that point on things were going to be different for him. He was going to be the kid with dead parents; the _orphan._ He was going to be all alone for the rest of his life. 

He had _no one_ , and Nezumi swore, on that day, he died too. 

*

_Drip, drip, drip ..._

Silence.

_Drip, drip, drip ..._

Silence.

_Drip, drip, drip …_

Nezumi slammed his fist on the table and his pens went flying across the room. If that leaky faucet interrupted his concentration one more time, he was going to smash his kitchen sink in with a hammer. 

He pushed his chair back and grimaced as it scraped loudly against the floor; he hoped it didn’t leave a mark, but he didn’t bother checking. He begrudgingly made his way across the living room to find his lost pen, knowing it’d be a challenge since it was so goddamn dark, but he refused to turn a light on. He let the moonlight guide him. 

He tiptoed around the half unpacked boxes littered across his floor with ease, like it was a choreographed dance he had performed many times before, which he had. He never bothered fully unpacking, and sure, it definitely made his apartments feel less than home-y, but he didn’t mind. It was too much work to constantly be packing and unpacking everything he owned, given how often he up-and-left places. 

Eventually his pens found _him_ first and he fell backwards as they rolled under his feet, his back crashing against the wooden floor and knocking the air out of him. He laid there and wheezed for a good five minutes, imagining his pens as people so he could beat their asses.

It was stupid, but he didn’t have much else to think about these days. He supposed that was a good thing though; that’s what he’s always wanted these past few years. No stressful thoughts, no feelings, nothing. He was content with having nothing. 

“Stupid,” he mumbled to himself and blew his bangs out of his eyes. 

He groaned as he sat up and stretched his legs straight out in front of him. He slowly leaned forward to grab onto his toes, felt the stretch behind his knees and the pull on his lower back, and stayed there for a moment. 

The only sound he could make out was the whirring of a fan coming from his bedroom; he kept it on as background noise, but he couldn’t hear anything else. His apartment was completely silent.

He looked around from his position on the floor and took in the rugged boxes surrounding him. The moon was just barely shining in through his dirty windows and casting odd shadows across the living room and disappearing into the kitchen.

It was so quiet his brain seemed to just be creating noise. A slight ringing in his ears, a faint whooshing sound, static, just filling the empty space.

He felt something heavy settle in his chest and his shoulders fell with it. He felt strange, like he wasn’t supposed to be here, like this wasn’t supposed to be his life. 

The silence was deafening. 

He quickly shook his head to make those thoughts disappear, as if doing so would make them fall out of his ear so he could crumple them up and throw them in the trash.

There’s no use wallowing over his situation.This was the way things were supposed to be for him, and it’s clear no other way would ever work out in the end. He knew that now. The world made that painstakingly obvious to him when something like God grabbed him that day on his walk home from school, only sixteen years old, and smacked him across the face with all its might.

With this newfound aggression hovering over him like a cloud, he snatched his pens off the floor and stomped back to his desk. His stupid, cheap, desk covered in stupid, pointless stories he knew were never going to be finished no matter how often he tried to convince himself otherwise. 

With a growl he pushed everything off of it and watched it fall. His messy handwriting scrawled on every piece of paper that swirled around him before falling lightly into a messy heap on the floor. He gripped the edge of his desk with both hands until his knuckles turned white, and even then, he didn’t let go. 

Some nights Nezumi let it get to him, though it was rare. Tonight was one of those nights. 

He had come to terms with the fact that this was just the way his life was supposed to be a long time ago. This was the way it _had_ to be. He had to live alone, he had to get a boring job where no one spoke to him, he had to isolate himself completely and keep to himself one hundred percent of the time.

People just complicated things. You grow attached to them and then they decide they don’t want you anymore, or in Nezumi’s case, whatever higher power lies above us just decides he hates your fucking guts and wants to watch you suffer. So he rips the things you care about most right out of your hands when you least expect it.

What better way to deal with this predicament than to not have to deal with it at all? That’s exactly what Nezumi was doing. 

He was simply protecting himself; doing what he had to do to stay safe. Safe from searing emotional pain and a life of disappointment. A life of getting your hopes up for a better future and getting let down over, and over, and over again.

He slammed his palm against his desk as hard as he could. 

Living the way he does simply made it so he knew what to expect. No one could touch him, no one could mess with how he felt and viewed the world around him, no one could even get _close_. He was in control, and that’s all that mattered.

His brain was split in half. One side coddling him and telling him things would be okay and nothing bad would happen if he finally let go of all of this. The other screaming at Nezumi not to play dumb. He knew how the world worked. His lifestyle was totally justified. He was doing what he had to do, and the latter was slowly taking over. 

Finally.

Nezumi let go of the desk with a long sigh, and he felt his body slowly relax. His mind settled back into the thought process he’d grown used to with ease, and he finally felt like himself again. Cold. Calloused. Emotionless. Not so goddamn _dramatic._ It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

He truly hated nights like these. Nights where it felt like his subconscious had a fistful of his hair in one hand and was prying his eyes wide open with the other, forcing him to take a look at the mess inside himself. Those feelings were all bullshit anyways; they didn’t mean anything. 

Of course he was going to get upset about the way his life was sometimes. He’s only human after all. Humans are unbelievably emotional and sentimental creatures at heart, but it only takes a bit of tweaking to unlearn it all together, and Nezumi was trying his damn hardest to unlearn it, that was for sure.

Nezumi groaned and brought his hands up to his face, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw spots, cursing when he remembered the mess he made on the floor. He peeked through his fingers to glance at the papers seemingly glaring back at him. Taunting him. _Look what you did, idiot_. 

He’d clean it tomorrow. For now, he needed to sleep.

_Sleep._

He needed that right now to make sure his thoughts didn’t spiral out of control again. He didn’t dream often so he didn’t have to worry about it seeping into his nightmares either. 

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way toward his bedroom, ready for another dreamless sleep. He made sure to wrap his arms tightly around his pillow and press his face deep into it. Maybe if he did this long enough he would successfully suffocate his thoughts.

Or he’d die. 

Whatever.  
  


*  
  


The next morning brought the same routine Nezumi had developed over the years. Every city was relatively the same; every country too. He could always count on finding a small job, finding some hole-in-the-wall coffee shop where he could sip on his drink for an hour and no one would bother him, finding empty streets to take daily strolls on. Even in New York City he could find streets like that, and even when he couldn’t, there were seas of people he could practically get lost in, so it kinda felt like the same thing.

It was about nine in the morning. Nezumi knew that wasn’t very early but he’d stayed up so late throwing a little tantrum like a five year old, and he definitely didn’t get enough sleep. He groaned and kicked his legs around to get his blankets off of him like a child and then heaved himself up. 

He sat and thought about going to work in a couple hours. The fluorescent lights of the craft store practically melting his eyeballs and the smell of acrylics and paint thinner burning his nose.

Maybe he should’ve suffocated himself with his pillow last night. Death seemed more appealing than the retail bullshit he had to endure for the entire day. He knew he picked jobs like these on purpose, for a _reason_ , but that didn’t mean he had to like them. He didn’t really _like_ anything that he was doing.

He was able to get his limbs to finally function and moaned as he got out of bed and continued whining until he was in the bathroom. He rested a hand against the wall as he used the toilet and almost fell asleep while doing so, feeling his eyelids get heavy, but he quickly snapped out of it.

He stared back at his reflection in the mirror when he was done.

Ew.

His under eyes were insanely dark. His lips were cracked and his skin was pale; he definitely needed to shave too. He’d do that later. 

He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his thumb gently under his eye, as if he could wipe the darkness away. Maybe he should invest in some makeup. Cover-up, or whatever the fuck it was called. He could do with a haircut too. It was dark and unkempt, touching his shoulders now.

No.

Nezumi quickly changed his mind. His hair made him look almost … pretty, and was practically the only thing he had going for him at the moment. Not that it even mattered.

If he truly wanted to feel pretty though, maybe he _should_ get some fucking makeup, god, he looked bad. 

He straightened up and didn’t take his eyes off of his reflection. He slowly forced his lips to stretch into a smile.

“Find everything okay?”, he said out loud.

He snorted at the sound of that and frowned back at himself. He didn’t like being nice to people he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure how his coworkers found it so easy. Being nice to strangers was pointless to Nezumi; he didn’t know them, so he didn’t owe them anything. 

He shook his head and stuck his tongue out at the man staring back at him, like he’d get a response, before making his way to his closet, digging around like he didn't wear the same exact thing everyday. 

Once dressed, Nezumi glanced at himself in the mirror and sighed.

What an exciting day he had ahead of him. 

*

“Bite him, Chica! Go for the ankles!” was the first thing Nezumi heard when he stepped out of his apartment complex and into the bustling city. 

He shouted and instinctively jumped back, refraining from kicking at the rabid little chihuahua growling at his feet. It was practically foaming at the mouth and mangy as all hell. It looked like a rat.

Laughter filled his ears and he followed it for a second, realizing it was coming from behind the trashcan in front of his apartment’s main entrance. Of course. 

“Can’t believe you’re still scared of her! That’s just how she shows affection,” Inukashi said, still chuckling as they poked their head around the trash can. They were incredibly tan despite how gloomy it’d been recently, their hair falling in their face and not even bothering to move it. 

“I’m not scared of it. It’s just gross. Looks like a rodent,” he shrugged. 

“Oh c’mon, I thought you liked rodents, _Nezumi_.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes.

“Well, that _thing-_ " He nudged the dog with his foot. "Is not actually a rodent. It’s a demon in disguise.” 

Inukashi reached out and snatched Chica away from Nezumi’s boot, cuddling her close and frowning back at him.

“Don’t be rude! She understands everything you say, y’know,” they snarled at him. Everyone always says the longer an owner has their pet, the more they look alike. Nezumi definitely agreed. 

“Yeah, I’m sure her feelings are deeply hurt,” Nezumi mumbled as he flicked a quarter in Inukashi’s face and started walking in the other direction.

“Hey! ... Asshole," was the last thing he heard before he was too far away to hear anything.

He almost laughed. 

Inukashi was homeless and had been sleeping outside of his apartment complex since he first moved here a couple years ago. They’d been kicked out of the area many times before, but still managed to always come back somehow and escape being arrested -- or whatever it was that happened to homeless people who slept where they shouldn’t. 

“I like the people in this area, so I’m staying. I don’t care what that walking suit running this joint says. I get to sleep wherever the hell I want to, especially because the same people working here don’t wanna help me find a real home anyways. They’d be fine with me sleeping in the dumpster. So I’m not gonna listen to them,” Inukashi had rambled to Nezumi one day when he’d simply walked outside for some fresh air. 

He hummed in response. He didn’t always need to say much; Inukashi knew he understood.

This was a friendship he could handle, if you could even call it that. Casual. Didn’t mean anything. Inukashi was simply there when Nezumi came out at night to get a better look at the stars, and they always felt the need to rope him into a conversation somehow. He didn’t mind too much though. Inukashi wasn’t _that_ annoying. 

Nezumi also knew that when he inevitably left, Inukashi wouldn’t care at all, and that sat well with him. That was good.

They seemed to have a new dog, or multiple, every couple weeks. They were always covered in dirt and looked like they stunk. Nezumi wasn’t really a dog person. Inukashi would always huddle up with them under a pile of sleeping bags laid out on the sidewalk, propping their ‘ANYTHING HELPS’ sign on a plastic container in front of them. 

“They’re like little heaters,” they’d explained to him, “you wouldn’t get it.” 

Aside from narrowly avoiding the attacks of ferocious chihuahuas every morning, getting coffee while he still had about thirty minutes to spare before work was also a part of his routine, and that’s where he was headed. 

This coffee shop was about a mile from his apartment, but he liked the walk. It gave him a chance to clear his head and mentally prepare for the day ahead of him. There was a Starbucks right around the corner from where he lived, but he wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that. Why would anyone spend all that money on a tall cup of sugar water doused in whipped cream first thing in the morning? It was stupid. 

The shop he frequented was far from visually appealing, but at least it was cheap. It definitely lacked the pizzazz Starbucks had though; that, he could admit. It was a dingy place with cracked flooring and ceiling tiles, and they sold donuts, coffee, and nothing else. He was also convinced it had the most unflattering lighting he’d ever seen in his entire life. It had character. He liked it. 

He tugged his scarf up over his mouth as the cold bit at his face and yanked the door open, cringing at the bell jingling above his head as he walked in. 

“B-”

“One black coffee, I know,” the woman cut him off with a kind smile.

He stood there for a second and then nodded in response. 

He’d seen this woman every single day since he moved here, and even felt kinda bad for her. It’s not like the shop was ever super busy or anything, but she was clearly an elderly woman, and seemed to be the only person working and dealing with all the customers. This seemed like a family owned business, so why wasn’t her family helping her?

Nezumi didn’t care enough to ask. It was none of his business either. 

He took the styrofoam cup from her with an awkward smile and felt the warmth of it bloom against his palm.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and handed her the crumpled dollar bill from his pocket.

“Of course." The wrinkles around her eyes intensified as she grinned.

How was someone so cheerful in the morning? Nezumi didn’t start feeling like anything other than a zombie until around one in the afternoon.

“How has your morning been so far?” she inquired, still smiling.

Nezumi hated small talk. 

“Just fine.”

“Just fine? Well I suppose that’s better than awful, huh?” she laughed.

He nodded again, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do with his free hand, but he didn’t let his face show it. He was good at pretending. 

“Anything I can do to make it better than _just fine_ ? Would you like a donut this time?”

Nezumi sighed and slowly began making his way to the table near the entrance. It had a large window next to it that he liked to people-watch through.

“Uh … No I’m okay, but I’ll let you know if I think of anything,” he replied with no intention of actually thinking about it at all. 

Why does she care so much about a stranger anyways?

“Well alright hun, you just let me know." She nodded at him before walking into the kitchen behind her, the large doors swinging as she left.

Nezumi rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion away as he brought his drink to his lips.

“Fuck,” he hissed. 

Too hot.

He held the cup between his hands and let the heat warm his body as he blew into it and gazed out the window. 

Couples laughing and holding hands, sharing kisses, and arguing playfully, children wrapped in ridiculously puffy jackets, beanies, and mittens as they stumbled to keep up with their parents, stray dogs chasing each other down the sidewalk and plowing through anyone that got in their way.

Nezumi didn’t think much of any of this; he was simply observing. Passing the time. If he didn’t like talking to anyone, the least he could do was watch. 

The ground was covered in a light frost and he was surprised he hadn’t seen anyone fall on their ass yet. He watched as strangers warm breaths turned to fog, as they rubbed their hands together to keep warm on their walk, as they argued over the phone on their way to work, and as they stood outside smoking cigarettes when the cold made them visibly shake.

There was something special about the city that Nezumi always liked. It was loud, but not in a bad way. It was loud in the way that it filled your head with a sudden white noise the second you walked outside, making it hard for the negativity in your brain to take over every thought process you had - to devour it. It just made living a little easier. The city was one big distraction, and that’s just what he needed. It was perfect, but he knew he couldn’t stay forever. 

His peaceful watching time was rudely interrupted as a beat-up white car went flying down the road, nearly crashing into every driver in front of them, but loudly swerved out of the way and kept pushing. 

Nezumi frowned and leaned his face closer to the window, intrigued. Even more so when about five police cars came shooting down after it. A car chase. This wasn’t uncommon in a place like New York City; crime was something you got used to pretty quickly, but it was still entertaining every time. 

The cars were gone as fast as they had come and he sat back in his chair, watching as people gasped and began discussing it, shouting like it was the craziest thing they’d ever seen.

Nezumi chuckled. 

That was enough entertainment for one morning.

He glanced down at his phone to check the time and took one more fleeting sip before standing up from the table. He had about fifteen minutes before he had to be at work and that was long enough to make the walk from here to there.

If he was even five minutes late his boss would come trudging to the front to lecture him about _promptness_ and _time management._

“Don’t you care about your job?” Nezumi could already hear the obnoxious question in his brain.

Of course he didn’t care about his fucking job.

It put food on the table, but his boss was just bluffing when he threatened to fire him anyways, so Nezumi would continue being just minutes late. He didn’t care. 

The old woman must’ve heard him get up because she immediately poked her head out from the kitchen.

“Oh, have a good rest of your day!” she squeaked.

He smiled weakly and waved a hand at her before heading to the door.

Maybe he should’ve gotten a donut. Just to make her happy.   
  


*  
  


“Ten minutes! Ten! Are you kidding me? Who do you think y-”

Nezumi tapped his fingers against the counter and then brought them up to his face for a closer look.

“You think we bring money into this place by being _late_ every day? I’ll tell you right now we do _not_ value laziness in this shop and if y-”

He squinted. Should he get a manicure? ... No, that's stupid.

“Time management is an essential skill, not only when you have a job, but in _life_! You need to quit doing this, Nezumi.”

Actually … Were manicures stupid? Nezumi didn't think pretty hands were anything to be ashamed of ... He'd look into that later.

Suddenly a set of fat, calloused fingers were snapping in front of his face.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rikiga asked.

Nezumi looked up, unamused. “You ever think about getting a manicure?”

Rikiga stared back at him.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no,” Rikiga sighed, “just get to work. Go … stack paint cans or something.” 

“Yes, sir,” Nezumi smirked, and then Rikiga was off to the back room, flipping him off as he went. 

Nezumi turned to greet the woman that was waiting behind Rikiga as he yelled at him. She looked nervous.

“Sorry about that. He’s a bit hotheaded,” Nezumi smiled as sweetly as he could, glancing down at the items she'd placed on the counter. 

A massive pack of chalk and nothing else. Easy enough. 

“Oh, that’s fine, I understand." She smiled in a way that made it clear she definitely did not understand.

Nezumi picked up the box and swiftly ran it across the scanner, pressing away at the screen in front of him as he did so. It was like a second nature to him now -- working retail. Which was sort of depressing. 

He briefly tore his eyes away from the computer to look at her again. 

Her eyes were big and kind. Light brown locks of hair framed her face and stopped around her shoulders, and she seemed to have a confidence you only gain with age. She looked comfortable now and radiated a warmth and gentleness Nezumi wasn’t used to, hadn’t been used to in a long time, and it almost made him feel uneasy. 

She was a mother. Nezumi could tell. 

“Uh, what’s the chalk for?” he asked as he took the money from her hand. 

He didn’t really care much, but Rikiga always said it was good to engage with customers.

“Make them feel good, Nezumi, you asshole! Like they’re welcome back here anytime and some snarky cashier isn’t going to spit on them the second they make eye contact,” he said.

“God, could you be any more dramatic ? I wouldn’t spit on a stranger,” Nezumi rolled his eyes.

“But you definitely want to.”

“Oh, of course.” 

“My bakery!” she beamed.

Nezumi looked up as he placed the chalk into one of the many bags next to the register.

“Uh-”

“Oh, I mean, we don’t bake with it!” she exclaimed, “we just ran out of the chalk we use on our menus and I decided to stop by and pick up some more.”

Nezumi snorted quietly as he handed her the bag.

“That’s not what I thought you meant,” he smiled assuredly. 

“Right." She nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Sorry, I'm a little frazzled. We’ve been busy recently, and ...,” she cut herself off with a sigh.

Nezumi took a closer look and agreed she definitely seemed like the type to work in a bakery -- looked like it too. She was sweet and cheerful, and seemed like she would thrive in that sort of environment. She also had flour all over her pants. 

Nezumi wasn’t sure where to go from there so he cleared his throat. 

“Well, enjoy not baking with your chalk.”

She smiled. 

“Of course! Thank you." She lifted up the bag and nodded in his direction before walking out of the store.

Nezumi suddenly felt a sharp tug on his ponytail and restrained the urge to throat punch whoever was behind him as he stumbled. 

“Why can’t you be that nice to everyone?” Rikiga hissed. 

Nezumi whipped around to give a heated response, but his boss was already stalking back to fabric aisle. 

He didn’t have a good response anyways. 

He wasn’t about to delve into his childhood trauma with his boss that he barely talked to. This woman just seemed like she deserved genuine kindness, almost like she pulled it out of him. 

Like he missed having the feeling a loving mother emitted as soon as she entered a room, and Nezumi’s immediate reaction was to be drawn to her.

A parent, a friend, a mother.

He missed that.

He thought about his own mother. Wondering if she’d be proud of him when he’d done nothing to be proud of, if she missed him, if she even lived on in some other plane of existence not available to Nezumi yet.

Probably not. 

The rest of Nezumi’s day was a blur of ringing people up, stacking paint cans, sweeping floors, and thinking too much.   
  


*  
  


“Do you draw?” Inukashi asked without looking up as Nezumi made his way towards them, like they recognized the sound of his footsteps.

It was later than usual for Nezumi to be getting back to his apartment; he took the long way home this time. The full moon was looming in the sky and the number of drunks hanging around outside of the bars across the street were already racking up.

Nezumi frowned.

“No, I don’t _draw_. Do I seem like the artist type?”

Inukashi sighed in frustration and threw the marker and piece of cardboard they were focusing on against the concrete. It was clear they’d tried to draw something eye catching, but failed miserably.

“You work at a craft store …” 

Nezumi shrugged and slid down the wall of the apartment building to sit next to them. The ground was cold and slightly damp, and he prayed that it was from old rain and not dog piss.

“The library wasn’t hiring.”

“Oh, the _library_ … So you’re a nerd?” Inukashi smiled.

“I’m not a nerd. Reality just isn’t exciting enough.”

Inukashi stared at Nezumi for a few seconds as he refused to make eye contact and kept his eyes fixed on the sky.

“Yes it is. You just have a shitty life,” they grinned.

Nezumi couldn’t argue with that.

But he chose to anyways … because that’s just how he is.

“Oh, and you don’t? Sleeping in a place you’re not wanted surrounded by smelly mutts is exciting for you?” 

Nezumi knew he was being harsh, but whatever. He knew his life wasn’t ideal, but it could always be worse. This worked for him just fine. He was doing what he needed to survive; he didn’t need any extra frivolous shit to feel satisfied. 

Inukashi didn’t seem offended in the slightest and rolled their eyes. 

“I’m perfectly fine with my sleeping bags and mutts." They shrugged. "But y'know, you could always be a doll and let me stay in your apartment one of these nights. I could sleep in your tub or something. It gets pretty cold out here! Even with the puppy heaters.” 

Nezumi guffawed and squinted at the moon, still not making eye contact.

“Not enough room.”

Inukashi hummed.

“Oh right, you bought the place with no intention of having company over because you’re a, uh … What’s the word?… Ah! _Loser_ ,” they smiled and nodded. 

“I just prefer to be alone, that’s all,” Nezumi said, unfazed. 

Inukashi didn’t respond and Nezumi welcomed the silence with open arms.

Nezumi watched the stars twinkle, following them with his eyes when some turned out to be airplanes instead, and thought about where he was going next.

A different state? A different country? 

Maybe he should start packing now.

“Do you mean that?” 

Nezumi blinked slowly and looked over at Inukashi. He assumed that’s where the noise came from.

“What?” 

“You prefer to be alone?”

Nezumi didn’t hesitate to respond, like the reply was programmed into his mind by now. 

“Absolutely. Company comes with complications. I’m not a fan of people.”

Inukashi picked up the sign from the ground and drummed their fingers against it as it sat in their lap, then looked up at Nezumi suddenly. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Nezumi sighed and tugged his leather jacket tighter around his body.

“I don’t need the homeless dog person outside my apartment to believe any of my convictions. I don’t care.” 

“Sure thing,” Inukashi smiled again and Nezumi frowned. 

He suddenly felt exhausted, like just a few minutes of conversation had drained all the life from his body, and he returned his gaze to the stars.

Cars honking, people shouting, beer bottles smashing against the ground, and Inukashi writing on their cardboard sign filled his head. 

Nezumi continued gazing and thought about his next paycheck, his next destination, and if he ever _would_ meet someone that wouldn’t leave him feeling so drained.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course he doesn’t show it, but when Nezumi’s daily routine is tweaked in the slightest without his consent, it is as if the world is crashing down around him. 

He mentally prepares every morning to expect the same thing every time, which is definitely stupid on his part, and when things change, he gets that sinking feeling in his gut. His heart beats a little faster, his face gets a little warmer, his palms get a little sweatier. It’s irrational and dumb, he knows that, but his reactions to certain situations never make much sense anymore. 

He clenched his teeth, put on a straight face, jammed his hands into his pockets, and thought about how that car chase from yesterday didn’t seem so exciting now.

“Sorry kid, I don’t know what to tell you. Guess you’re gonna have to get that morning coffee somewhere else today.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nezumi snapped.

The policeman in front of Nezumi was about ten inches shorter than him with a New York accent so intense it was almost comical. He was already in a bad mood, he wasn’t going to let a tiny cop get away with calling him _kid_.

The cop put his hands up in surrender and stepped a few inches away from him. 

“Don’t get all pissy with me, princess, it’s not my fault some idiot drove through the joint,” the man replied as he obnoxiously clicked a pen against his notepad. 

Nezumi breathed hard through his nose. 

It was cold, and Nezumi was angry. And tired. And hungry. And his head hurt. He groaned and closed his eyes, willing himself to count backwards from ten.

“Do you know any other coffee shops near here that haven’t been driven through and destroyed?” Nezumi finally asked, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger as he spoke. 

The cop began speaking but was quickly distracted by the chaos continuing beside them, turning his head for a better look. 

The dingy white car from the day before was unsurprisingly even uglier up close, especially now that it was rammed through the building in front of him. The window he had been looking through earlier was completely shattered, and the entire wall was gone and scattered around the sidewalk, and inside what was left of the building, in chunks. 

A group of police officers and a few firemen were gathered around the scene, stepping over wooden beams and glass, photographing everything, talking amongst themselves, and Nezumi couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as the scene reminded him of something he’d endured before. 

Nezumi reached out and snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face to grab his attention, feeling his patience dwindling more and more with each passing second. 

The cop blinked at him in surprise. “You’re being awfully disrespectful for someone talking to an officer of the law,” the man frowned and tightened his fingers around his belt. 

“And you’re being awfully annoying for someone who’s supposed to be helping me, _officer_ , now give me directions.”

The mans face softened and he sighed in defeat, probably realizing it was too early in the morning to be arguing with a stubborn bitch like Nezumi. 

“Some blocks that way." He pointed behind him. "There’s a bakery that sells coffee too on sixth avenue. It looks all cozy and shit, you can’t miss it.”

Nezumi worked on sixth avenue. 

“A name would be helpful.” 

The man rolled his eyes. “Karen’s or something … or, uh …" He flailed his hand around, like he could physically grab onto the answer he was looking for. “ _Karan’s_! Karan’s Bakery.”

“Karan’s Bakery,” Nezumi repeated, “alright, thank you.” 

“No problem. Hope the coffee perks you up a bit and makes you less of an ass,” the cop smiled with fake kindness and Nezumi did the same. 

Without another word Nezumi brushed passed the officer and continued on his normal route to work, knowing he’d stumble upon the bakery eventually. 

He had woken up way before the blaring of his alarm that morning and couldn’t drift back to sleep no matter how hard he tried, so he decided to get ready and walk to the coffee shop earlier than usual to pass the time. But of course, some moron drove straight through the building and wrecked it completely.

Just his luck. 

So now he’s forced to change his morning routine with no mental preparation or warning involved and he couldn’t help but feel more shaky and awake than coffee could ever make him because of it. 

He fumbled with the pages of the book he’d brought with him as he walked through the busy city, giving him something to do with his hands while he calmed down. 

Why did the smallest things set him off so quickly? It’s like even the slightest inconvenience could give him a fucking aneurysm, mostly due to frustration.

A cold breeze blew in his direction and he quickly yanked his scarf up over the lower half of his face, already knowing his nose was probably tinged red, and hugged his jacket closer against his body. He found Summer depressing, so he was glad the world was finally teetering into Winter, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of freezing his ass off either. 

He focused his eyes on the ground, avoiding cracks in the pavement and judging the style of shoes other civilians wore as he walked. He had this route completely memorized by now and didn’t need to look up much other than to make sure he wasn’t about to run head first into a pole. 

He picked up the pace as his fingers began to get so cold they ached around the book in his grasp.

He needed to get some goddamn mittens.

After a few more minutes of mouth-breathing into his scarf to warm up his face, realizing he definitely should’ve used mouthwash earlier, and walking as fast as he could, he finally stumbled upon the bakery. 

Just from a quick glance through the window Nezumi could tell the place was like a fucking Christmas wonderland, and going inside only intensified the feeling. 

His nose was instantly filled with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, and the room was doused in a dim warm light that immediately put you at ease, the tension in Nezumi’s shoulders slowly dissipating the second he entered the building.

White fairy lights were strung across the ceiling and twinkled gently and a Christmas tree about the size of Nezumi himself was perched in the corner of the room near the entrance, beautifully decorated in an assortment of tinsel and sparkling ornaments. 

The bakery was surprisingly less busy than Nezumi expected. A few tables were still open and there was a line at both counters that only contained about three people each. 

One half of the room had a register and display case full of baked goods, while the other had a counter and register with shelves of kettles, mugs, blenders, and other contraptions lined against the wall behind it. Nezumi assumed that half was for drinks only, so that’s immediately where he decided to go. 

The room felt so cozy and sweet it almost made him sick and he wasn’t sure he could stomach all that sugar from the other counter right now. 

He loosened the scarf around his neck and dropped it from his face, stepping up to the line of people patiently waiting to order. There didn’t seem to be anyone behind the register at the moment, and no one even came to the front when the customer farther up rang the little bell sitting there. 

So the bakery looks like the goddamn North Pole, but has terrible service. Noted, he thought to himself.

He bit the inside of his cheek and lightly tapped his fingers against his book as he waited impatiently, looking around and taking in little details. Small chips in the paint of the beige walls, the hand-written menus done in colorful chalk, the hidden patterns in the dark wooden floors. 

It was very … _cute_.

Out of the corner of Nezumi’s eye he saw someone walk out of what he assumed to be the kitchen, and he instinctively turned his head towards the movement. 

He recognized her. 

She was practically glowing as she made her way to the register designated for sweets, a kind smile stretched across her face. She pressed a few keys on the machine and then looked up at the line Nezumi was in across the room.

It was the woman who purchased from his store yesterday. This was the bakery she was talking about.

“Someone will be with you guys in just a moment! Sorry for the wait,” she said.

As she was speaking her eyes caught Nezumi’s and she stared for half a second, clearly trying to remember where she’d seen him before, and when she did her face broke out into a grin.

She waved in his direction and Nezumi awkwardly waved back in response.

He mentally prayed that she wouldn’t come up and talk to him, because as nice as she seemed, Nezumi hated small talk with strangers more than anything. He could never wrap his head around why people willingly engaged in shit like that. 

Nezumi didn’t have time to pray to whoever much longer though as his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a flurry of white and black charging out of the second entryway to the kitchen, balancing trays of mugs and not even flinching at the sound of the door slamming into the wall. 

“Coming through, coming through! Scalding liquid, watch out!” the tornado of a human exclaimed as he rushed towards the nearest table.

Nezumi grimaced at the noise and groaned inwardly, mentally scolding the man for making so much unnecessary noise. He wondered how anyone could be so obnoxious in the morning.

His eyes followed the man as he gracefully made quick stops around the room, delivering drinks to every occupied table, and …

White hair.

This dude had white hair. 

No not light blonde or anything like that, just pure fucking _white_ , like snow. Were you allowed to dye your hair at a job like this?

Nezumi glanced up at the woman, Karan he assumed, and noticed her smiling fondly at the snowy-haired stranger. 

“Give it a minute, it’s hot. Enjoy,” he heard the man say cheerfully as Nezumi creepily looked at the back of his head.

He realized he was staring and squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before the man could turn around, focusing his attention back on the menu on the wall, as if he was going to order anything different this time around. 

He kept his gaze firmly on the menu above until he was just the second person in line. He couldn’t tell you why he was focusing so hard on not looking forward, but when he finally did, he felt a zing go through his body that he couldn’t explain.

He didn’t like it.

The man looking back at him was … strange. His hair was an intense, shaggy mess. It stuck up in odd places and small strands fell over his eyes, and Nezumi felt the strongest urge to reach out and push them back with his own hand. And maybe when he did that, he could move his hand down to trace along the mark that lined one side of his face and traveled down his neck and beyond. 

Is it a burn mark? No it couldn’t be a burn, it looks too clean -- like ribbon … Wait, why does he care?

Nezumi then realized the man was smiling at him ... and looked slightly confused.

Probably because he was still staring at him like a fucking weirdo. 

Nezumi’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the man and looking down at the floor as the person in front of him finished up their order, pretending the cracks in the wooden planks were far more interesting than they actually were.

He felt jittery and his palms were sweating, and in a matter of seconds he was suddenly dreading having to order, having to open his mouth and actually _speak_ to this person. 

All too quickly the person ahead of him was done ordering and moved out of the way for Nezumi to go up next, and without hesitation, Nezumi put on the straight face he had a talent for conjuring in seconds.

He stepped up to the counter and reached into his pocket for change with his free hand.

“What can I get for you today?” the man spoke in a soft, high-pitched voice with a smile that seemed surprisingly genuine.

“Large black coffee.” 

“You were staring at the menu so intensely, and all you decided on is a black coffee?” the man asked as he tapped Nezumi’s order into the computer in front of him. 

Oh, so not only does he look weird, but he’s a smart ass too. 

Nezumi frowned down at the change he was counting in his palm and looked up at the man grinning back at him like an idiot -- _Shion_ , he noticed from his name tag.

“Yes. Aren’t you supposed to be a mindless barista who just takes my order, no questions asked?” he pretended to count more change to avoid eye contact as he spoke.

The guys’ eyes were fucking _red_ ; what was up with this kid? Was he even human? Was this quaint little bakery hoarding New York City’s deadliest vampire or something?

Instead of shutting the barista up, all the question did was make him laugh, and Nezumi couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Here this guy was, making Nezumi feel like he was crawling out of his skin, and he was just _laughing_ at him. What a dick. 

“I guess you’re right, my bad,” Shion’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest.

Nezumi reached out and handed him the total once it popped up on the screen.

“I always am.” 

Their eyes locked for just a millisecond. Anyone else around them definitely wouldn’t have noticed, but it was enough to make Nezumi’s breath to catch in his throat. 

The man’s - _Shion's_ \- eyes were a deep, berry color. They contrasted greatly against the stark white of his hair and skin and were completely entrancing, almost … pretty. Objectively speaking. Some things were just pretty, and that was okay. Didn’t mean anything, but it was true.

“You were staring at me pretty intensely too,” Shion added as he gently took the money from Nezumi, as if he was purposely making sure their hands didn’t touch. 

“Thought I saw a ghost behind you.”

Shion giggled at that and the sound echoed in Nezumi’s head and his stomach tightened, but he ignored it. 

“You wouldn’t be the first person to be freaked out by my appearance, don’t worry.”

Nezumi didn’t respond. Mostly out of fear of saying something stupid, assuring the man he wasn’t freaked out, but … he didn’t know what.

Whatever, freaked out worked too.

“Would you like your drink to go, or are you gonna stick around awhile?” Shion asked, sounding almost … hopeful?

Nezumi glanced up at the clock on the wall to see how long he had before he was ‘late’ in Rikiga’s book and got his ass kicked. He had about an hour to spare. 

“For here,” Nezumi replied. 

“Great! I’ll bring you your drink then when it’s done,” the man perked up, hands folded on the counter in front of him. 

“Great,” Nezumi repeated sarcastically. 

Once the transaction was completed Nezumi made a beeline for the table near the window, hoping no one crashed through this one too.

Well, no, maybe he’d be fine with that so he could be free of the anxiety this stranger was causing him. No one ever made Nezumi feel so flustered and he wasn’t sure how to react, wasn’t sure why this was happening at all.

Maybe it’s just because he looks so weird, and Nezumi’s not used to it… Yeah, that makes sense.

He stretched his legs out under the table and leaned back in his seat, finally opening the old copy of _Dracula_ he’d brought with him. It was covered in coffee stains and hand-written notes in the margins from both him and the previous owner, and sometimes Nezumi had more fun reading those than the actual story.

He was going to reread _American Psycho_ instead, but decided he wasn’t in the mood to read over a hundred pages of rich people whining about each other’s designer suits before it got interesting.

Nezumi stared at the book in his hands for what felt like an eternity, somehow only reading the same page five times in a row, but not absorbing any of the story at all. The words he usually got sucked into so easily, seamlessly creating another world in his head, seemed to just mesh together now, and he could feel the annoyance setting in fast. 

He never had issues when it came to reading; he loved it. Why was he suddenly acting like a moron with comprehension issues? 

He sighed loudly and put his book down on the table in front of him, eyes still fixed on the pages, but not processing what any of the words actually meant. It seemed like getting coffee early was a waste of time; he should’ve just forced himself to go back to sleep. 

He glanced over to the other side of the room to see what was taking so long; Nezumi knew damn well it didn’t take this long to pour a cup of coffee, and he’d already decided in his head he wouldn’t be coming back here. 

The barista he’d nicknamed ‘vampire kid’ in his head was pouring a pot of creamer that looked bigger than he was, practically hugging it, as he tried to draw some sort of design into the cup he was so focused on. 

His hair fell in front of his eyes as he leaned forward and obviously stood on his toes to make the perfect lines in whatever he was creating. The man’s eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue stuck slightly out of one side of his mouth as he worked. 

Nezumi thought he was concentrating entirely too hard on something as dumb as coffee, and he felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched. He got that feeling in his stomach again, like his body was trying to tug him forward.

He dug his fingernails into his palm to ignore the sensation and give his body something else to focus on. 

The barista was clearly busy … Nezumi could wait. 

He leaned back in his chair once again and tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he did so and folded his arms across his chest. If he couldn’t even focus on a book he loved, all he could think to do was close his eyes and over think about things that didn’t matter.

He was really good at that. 

Through the whirlwind of thoughts, Nezumi felt himself dozing off every few seconds too, but managed to pull himself back every time he noticed, because he could only imagine just how embarrassing it would be to fall asleep in public. 

The feeling of relaxation and sleepiness didn’t last though as Nezumi had the strongest inkling he was being watched. 

Maybe by a potential stalker who was watching his every move and was going to follow him the second he left the bakery, or a … 

Nezumi opened one eye.

Oh.

“It’s you.” 

Nezumi sat up and unraveled his scarf from his neck, dropping it in the seat across from him before turning his attention back to the barista. 

The pale man standing next to his table beamed and raised the mug in his hand slightly like he was proudly presenting a gift. 

“It’s me,” Shion said, then gently set the cup in front of Nezumi, “and here’s your coffee.” 

“Took you long enough.” 

Shion’s face turned pink and he shrugged, and it took everything in Nezumi to tear his eyes away and look down at the drink in front of him. 

There was a leaf in it. 

Like … a leaf design done in creamer. 

It stood out strongly against the black of the liquid underneath and had a waviness to its lines that made it obvious Shion was far from an expert at this sort of thing. But he’d tried. 

That’s what he spent all this time on? Nezumi was sure he’d only said _black_ coffee.

Nezumi frowned in confusion and looked up at Shion, still standing next to him like he was waiting for Nezumi to comment on it. Nezumi thought he looked just a tail away from looking like an excited puppy anticipating a treat. 

“I said _black_ … What if I’m deathly allergic to dairy and took a sip before I saw that; I could sue you,” Nezumi said, straight-faced.

That clearly wasn’t the response Shion was hoping for because a look of dread instantly took over his face and he swiftly reached out to grab the cup, almost spilling it in the process, and Nezumi pushed his seat back a little to avoid being in the splash zone. 

Shion cradled the cup against his chest like it was an infant, looking more concerned than anyone Nezumi had ever seen in his life.

“Are you?” he asked worriedly. 

Was this guy for real? Nezumi rolled his eyes and snatched the cup from Shion’s hands, almost feeling bad for the kid.

“No, of course I’m not …,” he replied as he scooted forward, “just saying I could’ve been. You should take your customers more seriously.” 

Shion’s hands stayed in the same position for a moment as his face got impossibly more red. 

Nezumi raised an eyebrow as he brought the cup to his lips, expecting a response from the barista. Shion’s eyes just followed the movement for a moment and then loudly cleared his throat.

“Well, I’m sorry for almost killing a hypothetical version of you that _is_ deathly allergic to dairy,” he finally said. 

How kind.

Nezumi thought he would leave then, give him space to enjoy his morning and some time to actually _wake up_. He also had a book with him, which he thought was a clear sign he wanted to be left alone. It was like wearing headphones in public, right? 

But he just stood there, lightly swaying side to side like he was working up the courage to say something. 

“How about next time you’re here, I’ll give you a coffee on the house to make up for it. You don’t have to pay anything, and I won’t screw it up this time… Promise!” Shion spoke a mile a minute, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. 

That definitely wasn’t what Nezumi was expecting him to say. Why would he want some random person to come back and give him a drink for free just because he put a little creamer Nezumi couldn’t even taste in his coffee?

Nezumi continued sipping his drink as Shion anxiously bounced on his feet, awaiting a response from Nezumi and clearly trying to gauge any emotion from him.

He let the kid feel nervous for a bit before finally humming in acknowledgement and setting his cup back down on the table.

“Why do you assume there’ll be a next time?” 

Shion’s eyes widened somewhat and he stilled, opening his mouth to speak, but then immediately closed it, cutting himself off. 

Nezumi felt his lips tug upward and brought a hand up to cover his mouth, turning his head to the window this time. 

Finally the barista was the one feeling awkward, and not the other way around. 

Nezumi looked up at the clouds and tried to make out all random patterns that he could, then down again at strangers crossing the street and engaging in loud conversation. All while being hyper aware of Shion _still_ standing next to him. 

“You’re mean.”

Nezumi froze, eyes squinting at the people passing by the bakery. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard the barista correctly.

“I’m _mean_?” he turned around and asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Shion didn’t look upset, just thoughtful, head cocked a bit to the side and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Nezumi’s eyes were drawn to it against his will. 

Shion nodded and Nezumi looked back up. 

He was almost offended. He thought of himself as snarky sometimes; sarcastic. But _mean_? No, Nezumi didn’t think he was mean. If anything, everyone else was just too sensitive. 

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way, kid,” Nezumi shrugged and raised his cup in Shion’s direction, hoping he’d take that as a sign to finally leave. This conversation was dragging on entirely too long in Nezumi’s opinion.

Shion didn’t budge though, looking over Nezumi’s body like he was analyzing him, not caring that the two of them were just strangers. Clearly this man had no boundaries, and Nezumi suddenly felt incredibly awkward. 

Vibrant eyes bored into him, the barista giving no sign of leaving anytime soon.

“Stop hovering,” Nezumi murmured into his cup, eyes now facing forward. 

“I need to work on taking customers more seriously,” Shion spoke, ignoring Nezumi’s demand, of course, as a smile crept onto his face, “and you need to work on being kind to others.” 

Nezumi leaned his head back and groaned weakly to himself. 

“Do you talk this much to everyone?” Nezumi asked, half genuinely curious, half not at all. 

Shion just laughed, a sound that filled Nezumi’s head once more in a way he wasn’t used to, but he allowed it to linger this time. 

“I think so." He nodded, laughter still trickling into his sentence. "But I get it, I get it … don’t worry, I’m done now.” 

Nezumi didn’t believe he was actually done at all, and was just tired of him deflecting everything he said and being a dick. Which was understandable, and Nezumi felt a wave of relief wash over him the second Shion backed just an inch away from his table. 

“Enjoy your drink,” he murmured quietly and nodded at Nezumi. 

But of course Nezumi didn’t reply, and he watched as the barista turned and walked back into the kitchen without another word, which Nezumi was extremely grateful for. 

The world in general made Nezumi nervous sometimes, but _people_ never did, and this feeling was entirely new to him, and entirely _awful_ too.

His heart was beating a little faster than normal and his hands were shaky; he decided it was just because of the coffee and nothing else … but he also felt like he had cottonmouth for some reason, so he chugged the rest of it anyway. 

If he was going to die right there from a caffeine induced heart attack, that was fine by him. 

Now that the nuisance was gone, and Nezumi no longer had to worry about him coming over and pestering him, he hoped, he could finally focus on reading with the thirty minutes he had to spare before his shift started. 

He grabbed his book off the table and sank back into his chair, flipping it open and finally letting the words take over his brain. He’d read _Dracula_ many times before, but he loved rereading books. 

The first time you read something, you’re too overwhelmed by the new story line and characters to really take in much else, but every time you pick it up after that, you discover something new that makes the story that much better. Nezumi always tried to read every book he purchased three times or more because of it. 

It also served as a good distraction when Nezumi needed to be pulled out of his own world for awhile and sucked into another. He’s been trying to create his own stories for awhile now as well, even some plays, but most of them end up being copies of things he’s already read, and he never even realizes it until he goes back to reread his work. 

Not that it really mattered, Nezumi knew he’d never be a famous author or playwright. He wouldn’t like the attention anyway. 

He slipped away into the story for what felt like hours, reading across every line at lightning speed, and feeling the frayed pages against his fingertips. He was oblivious to the building around him, to the boisterous city beyond the bakery’s doors, and to the universe he was in completely. This is why he loved reading so much, why it was so important to him. 

It was the only thing that stayed no matter what and made him feel an array of intense emotions. In the best way. 

Nezumi finally looked up after twenty five pages to check the time, eyes locking first on the man behind the counter, but only for a second.

Shion quickly looked down to pretend he hadn’t been caught staring, face scrunching up in embarrassment, and Nezumi felt that zing rush through him again. It started in his chest, then shot down to his stomach and back up his body to pulse through his fingertips, buzzing around the book in his hands. 

It wasn’t the worst feeling, but it did give off a similar vibe to being somewhat nauseous, so Nezumi decided he still didn’t like it. 

He averted his gaze to check the clock on the wall, realizing he only had a few minutes before he had to be at the shop. He immediately shot up from his seat and pushed his chair in, lightly folding the page he stopped at once he was standing.

Nezumi knew he usually didn’t care if he was late to work, and the store was just across the street, but he was in a weird mood today, and didn’t know if he could handle Rikiga yelling at him without punching him or something. 

He reached up first to undo his ponytail, brushing his fingers through his greasy, black hair and aggressively pushing through knots. He then messily combed it back and put it up once more, tightening it so it wouldn’t slip and pulled out a few strands to hang across his forehead. 

With that, he snatched his book from off the table and headed out the door, making an effort to not turn back for a last look at the barista before he left. 

But, as everyone knows, the world is Nezumi’s worst enemy and plans on making him uncomfortable as often as possible for the rest of his depressing existence. So of course he only made it about twenty feet out of the bakery before he felt someone yank his arm. 

Whoever it was yanked him so hard, in fact, he almost went tumbling backwards onto the pavement.

Nezumi spun around with the twist of his arm and slammed into the person behind him, feeling their loud _‘oof!'_ vibrate through his body. He clung to their shoulders to stable himself, but once he realized who it was, he jumped back like he’d been electrocuted. 

It was Shion.

The man looked even paler in natural light, his skin almost blending seamlessly with the brightness of the sun shining behind the storm clouds above them, but a long, pink ribbon coiled around his skin, tainting the pure white. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard! I guess balancing trays all day builds strength.”

“Uh, yeah I guess it does,” Nezumi replied lamely.

Nezumi passed a hand over his bangs and readjusted his jacket, still trying to gather his thoughts after having the fucking _wind_ knocked out of him by this stranger.

He then looked down at what the man across from him was messing with in his hands, a lump of forest green fabric nervously weaving between his fingers. 

Nezumi frowned and pointed at it.

“That’s mine.”

Shion seemed confused for a second, then looked down at his hands too, eyebrows raising in surprise like he’d genuinely forgotten why he’d come out here in the first place. 

“Right! You left it inside. I came out here to see if you were still around so I could give it back, and … here you are … Uh." Shion’s arm shot out to give it to him, like he suddenly couldn’t handle holding it anymore.

“You found me,” Nezumi replied nonchalantly, taking the scarf from Shion’s hand. 

Nezumi could still feel the pressure and warmth of Shion’s shoulders under his palms as he’d regained his balance, trying his hardest to push it to the back of his mind as he loosely wrapped the scarf around his neck and gently tugged it up to his chin. 

“Thank you,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion seemed surprised with his manners and Nezumi scoffed inwardly. This guy really did think he was mean, huh? 

The surprise was quickly replaced with a kind smile and a faint blush across his cheeks, and whether it was from the cold or something else, Nezumi didn’t know. 

“Of course,” he replied, “well, hope you enjoyed the coffee too, even though I kinda messed it all up ... Have a good rest of your day,” he squeaked.

Nezumi opened his mouth to speak but Shion immediately turned away before he could get a word out, rushing back towards the bakery. Look who’s the rude one now.

He watched as Shion weaved through the civilians passing by, tripping over his feet as he went. Nezumi snorted and shook his head in disbelief at the kids awkwardness, turning around to finally make his way to the store; Rikiga was definitely going to yell at him now. 

“Oh, and I meant what I said by the way!” a voice called from behind him.

Nezumi stopped in his tracks and turned his head to see Shion halfway through the door, one leg in, one leg out, biting his lip nervously, but smiling through it. 

There was a small crowd of people walking between them now, separating them, a blur of grey business suits and pastel ties on their way to the office, but Shion stood out too much for Nezumi’s eyes to lose track of him. 

Nezumi stared back at Shion, silently encouraging him to elaborate.

“Next time you’re here, the drink’s on me!” he shouted. 

Nezumi rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding his head once, then gave a weak wave goodbye so Shion knew he heard him. 

Why was this guy so persistent? 

Shion waved back enthusiastically and slipped back into the bakery, the moment gone and finished as the barista disappeared once more into the warm light and sugary scent of the bakery, shielded from the cruel city outside. 

Nezumi continued staring down the sidewalk for a few seconds, like he was expecting something else to happen.

But no, the interaction had come to a close, and Nezumi was left with an odd feeling in his chest.

* 

Work was particularly difficult that day and Nezumi couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe that barista drugged his coffee. He wouldn’t put it past him, the dude seemed weird for sure. 

Nezumi kept fumbling with the scanner, stocking items in the wrong place, zoning out constantly, and knocking over displays. It’s like his mind was filled to the brim, absolutely buzzing with thoughts, yet he couldn’t decipher what was actually on his mind at all.

His body was practically vibrating and he couldn’t focus on anything and it was irritating him to no end. 

“You’re lucky I like you enough to not seriously kick your ass,” Rikiga sighed, helping Nezumi reorganize the second display he’d destroyed within the last hour and a half. 

This time it was a massive display of colorful journals, all clearly aimed towards children, and so intensely neon it was almost vomit inducing. 

“You like me?” Nezumi smirked, handing a journal up to Rikiga from his spot on the floor. 

Rikiga stared at him. "Nevermind.” 

Nezumi chuckled and handed another journal to his boss, looking down at his legs and cringing at the sight of dirt clinging to his pants. He definitely needed to do a better job cleaning over here. 

Out of all the displays Nezumi could’ve demolished, his body decided to make him run straight into the largest one they had up, a wave of books flying in every direction. 

He’d stared at the mess for a moment and contemplated leaving it there and pretending nothing happened, but decided to be an adult about it instead. 

“You know you could get up and actually help me put these things back? This mess is your fault, in case you forgot,” Rikiga said, waving a journal around to emphasize his point.

Nezumi leaned back on his hands and sighed.

“Eh, I’ve had a long day. Not really in a standing mood.” 

“It’s only _noon_ , and you don’t do enough with your life to have what’s considered a ‘long day’,” Rikiga rolled his eyes.

Nezumi sat up at that, pointing a finger at Rikiga as he spoke. “Hey, dick, I have had a long day. Well not long, but it was … different. Had to go to a new coffee place this morning because some idiot drove through the one I usually go to. It threw me off.” 

Nezumi sat back with a huff, crossing his arms in frustration. He did do enough in life to have a long, tiring day … it just so happened to also be incredibly boring. 

“Okay, your highness, I was _joking_. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Rikiga said, “Where’d you go instead?” 

“Some bakery down the street,” Nezumi grumbled and picked at his fingernails. 

Rikiga was finished reorganizing now, standing above Nezumi with his arms crossed, looking like he was actually interested in what he had to say for once. 

“Karan’s?” he asked, his face lighting up. 

Nezumi nodded absentmindedly and thought about lying on the dirty floor for a nap, but Rikiga’s voice was entirely too loud for him to do that. 

“It’s the best, right? Y’know, I have the biggest crush on the little lady who runs that place. She’s beautiful,” Rikiga replied, staring up at the ceiling, looking utterly infatuated, “she was here yesterday, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she seems like a sweet woman,” Nezumi agreed.

Rikiga squinted at him through dark eyelashes. “Don’t even think about it though, I got dibs.” 

“I-,” Nezumi cut himself off, face screwed up in disgust, “definitely wasn’t thinking about it. She could be my mom.”

Nezumi didn’t bother clarifying that he was also only interested in calling dibs on beautiful _men._

Rikiga shrugged, now leaning against the shaky display. Nezumi eyed it carefully, secretly hoping it would fall again just because it’d be entertaining. 

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she's a total cougar. Plus, you’re pretty enough to charm her, I’m sure.”

Nezumi groaned and pushed himself off the ground, aggressively wiping the grime off his pants with his hands, hoping Rikiga wouldn’t care enough to make him reclean the whole aisle. 

“Never call me pretty again.” 

Rikiga chuckled and shook his head, smacking his hand down on Nezumi’s back a couple times to show he was only messing around. 

Nezumi stumbled forward and coughed from the gesture, turning back and frowning at his boss before making his way towards the register. He noticed a couple people waiting there a few minutes earlier but had been too lazy to get up.

“Alright, get back to work!” Rikiga shouted from down the aisle. 

Nezumi waved a hand behind him, hoping Rikiga took that as the, ‘shut up, I am’, that it was. 

He was somewhat grateful for the distraction and simple conversation with Rikiga. It seemed to ground him enough to keep him more focused during the rest of his shift, but of course he didn’t tell him that. 

Nezumi continued working until his day came to a close at about five, completing every little task that needed to be done to keep himself busy and being extra fake-nice to customers - which definitely made Rikiga happy. 

_'You need to work on being kind to others,'_ a familiar voice repeated annoyingly in his head as he went about his day.

He didn’t need to work on anything. He was doing everything just fine. 

Before he left he made one last stop to the back room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He had his jacket, his book, and - 

His _scarf_. 

It was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room and Nezumi mentally chastised himself for almost leaving it behind for the second time today. 

He grabbed it and immediately put it on, knowing it would be even colder now than it was when he first arrived. 

Nezumi could hardly wait to get back to his apartment, which was unusual because the place was totally depressing, but something about today really had him feeling off. All he wanted was some silence and to go to bed as quickly as possible.

Once he double-checked the room to make sure he really had everything with him, he finally walked out to the front of the store and towards the exit, Rikiga wishing him a safe walk home as he went. 

“You’ve been acting funny all day -- distracted. Don’t get hit by a car! Look both ways when you cross the street!” Rikiga said in a high-pitched voice like he was talking to a toddler.

“No promises,” Nezumi replied, pushing the door open and walking out as fast as he could. 

*

It recently started getting incredibly dark during the early hours of the evening, the streets almost pitch black and illuminated only by street lights and neon signs at just about five p.m, and Nezumi assumed that’s why he was drawn to it. 

He stood outside the bakery across from his work, and the place seemed to glow in comparison to the rest of the stores surrounding it. It cast a blanket of bright light across the sidewalk and halfway across the road before dying out.

He didn’t plan on going inside at all though, wasn’t sure if he could handle anymore human interaction today. His social battery was completely drained and he desperately needed to recharge. 

So he just stood there, pressed against the cold, stone wall and peeking his head over to gaze inside. He knew he probably looked like a creep, but he was too tired to care at the moment. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, the bakery just seemed to have an aura of security that made him want to go back, even though he was so sure he never would again. 

There was no one in there at the moment, which was to be expected. Nezumi couldn’t think of many people who’d go for coffee and cake that late, and for a brief moment he really did consider going inside, but quickly decided against it. 

His eyes scanned over the glass cases full of abundant treats and the multitude of decorations, and noticed how the tree seemed to shine brighter at night. But then something else caught his eye.

A white haired man walked out of the swinging kitchen doors, spray bottles of what Nezumi assumed to be cleaning product hooked over the tied strings of his apron and a rag in hand. 

Nezumi’s eyes widened and he pulled back from the window immediately, pressing his back against the wall now. It was one thing to just look around a shop, it was another to stare while someone was working away in there, and Nezumi knew he’d definitely feel like a creep then. 

Slowly but surely though, Nezumi found himself looking into the bakery once more anyways, because maybe he was okay with being a creep. Just for a second. 

He watched as Shion sprayed and wiped down tables, pushing loose strands of hair that were longer than the rest behind his ears, scratching his nose with his arm to avoid getting cleaning products on his face.

Nezumi noticed he moved in a way that was odd to him. He seemed so timid yet so comfortable, moved with a sort of subtle grace he hadn’t noticed earlier, but still clumsily knocked over napkin dispensers as he worked. 

Nezumi heard his heart pounding in his ears and eventually found himself inching closer to the door, feeling his body trying to reach out to grab the handle, but the second he realized it, he pulled away like he’d been burned.

He shook his head, trying to kill whatever idiotic trance he was in. Why did he have the urge to go in so bad, especially knowing that guy was in there? He was quite possibly one of the most annoying people Nezumi had met in a long time, so he couldn’t figure it out. 

With a sigh and another mental scolding, Nezumi pulled himself away from the bakery completely, only glancing back one last time to the barista now mouthing along to whatever dumb Christmas song was playing overhead. 

Maybe the coffee was just really good and Nezumi hadn’t noticed at the time, and this was his body’s way of telling him he should go buy another. Rikiga _had_ made it seem like the bakery was really amazing, so maybe that was it.

Or something. Rikiga just seemed to think the owner was hot, and Shion didn’t even follow his order, so that didn’t really make any sense either.

Nezumi rolled his eyes to himself and started walking faster, the thought of his bed becoming more appealing by the second. 

He willed himself to stop thinking about the stupid bakery and keep moving. Whatever was bothering him so much could wait; he could always go back tomorrow if it mattered so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is finally here! Would you guys be interested in chapters from Shion's perspective too? I love writing Nezumi, but get worried you guys might get bored of him being a negative ass lol. Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and I hope you like this one :) <3


	3. Chapter 3

The shell of a deep sleep was cracked ever so slightly and the sound of chirping birds trickled inside Nezumi’s brain. 

It was just a distant song at first, like someone humming in the next room, muffled, but he was aware of it. 

He began to stir and pressed his face deeply into his pillow as the noise became more apparent. It was almost enjoyable at first, and he relished in the sweet melody until it continued getting louder every second. They seemed upset, due to a rustle of their nest or something else, Nezumi didn't know, but one bird was becoming substantially higher pitched and louder than the other, borderline shrieking, and -

Wait, no, those definitely weren’t birds. That’s Inukashi screaming at somebody outside his window. 

And just like that, all good feelings were shattered and the shell cracked wide open. 

Nezumi gripped onto his pillow and groaned into it, hoping the louder he did so, the quicker the yelling would dissipate. But of course, that didn’t work, and he mentally cursed Inukashi for being so fucking obnoxious at -

Nezumi angrily turned to his side and lifted his head, only opening one eye to check the clock sitting on his nightstand, glaring back at him in menacing red numbers. 

It was fucking _six_ in the morning… _six!_

Why are they even awake at six? Aren’t they too busy cuddling up with gross smelling, furry beasts on the concrete to enter a screaming match? Making another atrocious sign?

Of course as soon Nezumi is conscious an event has already occurred that pisses him off to no end, ruining the few hours he gets in a day where he feels truly _peaceful,_ it’s perfectly fitting, really. It’s like the world itself was working through Inukashi, making them do things with the sole purpose of reminding him there will never be a blissful, joyous moment in his life, from the second his eyes open, to the second they close late at night.

With a huff he fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to make out images in the popcorn texture of the paint, like a lame version of counting sheep. He had about three more hours until he had to be up for work and he was already plotting Inukashi’s death for waking him up at this ungodly hour.

He was fully aware this was considered a normal time for most working adults to be up; gotta make sure they’re up bright and early to greet the boss at the office - _ugh, that sounds like hell_ , he thought - but that was _far_ from his schedule. 

Nezumi’s schedule was something along the lines of: wake up at nine, be pestered by Inukashi, get coffee, go to work, come home, read or write, and go to sleep.

Inukashi throwing a wrench in his exciting routine was surely punishable by death; Nezumi thought it made perfect sense.

He clenched his eyes shut and fisted the sheets in his right hand, trying his hardest to will himself to sleep, those few remaining hours seeming like heaven, but it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. 

Inukashi’s yelling was becoming consistently louder and more aggressive in tone, and Nezumi was convinced his head was literally going to explode. 

“What is their fucking _problem_?” he growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the bed in one swift motion. 

He was surprised his legs didn’t give out from standing so fast; the annoyance coursing through his veins must’ve prepared his body enough for it. 

He stomped over to his window and lifted it up with both hands, shoving his head out into the world and looking down.

The wind immediately blew his hair into his face and the cold was shocking against his skin, the sudden feeling only causing his frown to intensify and his eyes to squint, but he was too focused on the scene below to notice too much.

There Inukashi was, yapping like the chihuahua by their feet as they tugged on the sign they made in the apartment manager’s hands with all their might; it was practically ripping in half, but neither seemed to care.

The apartment manager was short and stout, red in the face, and bald, huffing and puffing as their game of tug-of-war intensified like he had a chance. 

“This. Is. My. _Spot!_ ” Inukashi screamed, pulling on the sign with each word. 

The manager pulled it back, clearly out of breath. “I don’t care about your spot, sweetcheeks, I _run_ this place, and I’m givin’ you the boot!” 

“You can’t just do that!” Inukashi shrieked, and Nezumi cringed at the sound so early in the morning, “this is where I _live_! People know me here, I have friends, this is my spot!”

This continued for awhile, the same few sentences being thrown back and forth and not one of them seeming to grasp the others point for even a second. Nezumi was surprised he didn’t see any other tenants poking their heads out and being nosy towards all the commotion. 

Inukashi’s hair was sitting like a bird nest on their head, that being the only similarity between them and a bird at all; he has no idea how on earth he could’ve misinterpreted their squeals for a chirping bird invading his sleep.

The two yelling voices eventually seemed to morph into one, creating a wall of seething noise, and Nezumi was practically counting down the seconds before somebody called the cops. Not because they actually cared, but probably due to them wanting to sleep without the homeless person below their window losing their mind, or because they get a rush from being a snitch.

Either way, Nezumi found the interaction rather entertaining, his chin resting in his palm on the filthy windowsill as he watched them bicker for another minute like he was watching a play. It was so dramatic after all, waiting for Inukashi to eventually exit stage right before remembering what he trudged out of bed for in the first place. 

He sat back up, cursing when he knocked the back of his head against the window. He thought for a moment what would get their attention other than a lousy, “shut up!”, something that would actually, y’know, make them both _go away_ , but before he could speak, the distinct _shckkkkk_ of thick paper being torn in half was heard from the sidewalk, and Nezumi knew what that meant. 

“Oh, great,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes before quickly backing up and slamming his window shut, bracing himself for what was to come.

Silence.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” could be heard through the glass, and Nezumi didn’t even want to know how that sounded to the innocent passersby.

“There it is,” he said to himself. 

He leaned his head back and sighed. Why couldn’t they just move across the street and get over it? What were they getting out of being such a nuisance to the manager? He didn’t think he would ever understand Inukashi’s reasoning behind most things. 

He watched through the water stained glass for another moment before realizing it didn’t seem like Nezumi could do anything to help the situation anyways. Inukashi was in the zone now and he knew they wouldn’t shut up until things went their way. There was no point in shouting out of his window and adding to the chaos, even though he desperately wanted to, just to get his frustration out. 

He had a lot of pent up frustration that was completely displaced in his daily life too, he knew that, he didn’t need to pay way too much money to have a therapist tell him, but he didn’t know what to do about it. So instead of figuring it out, he would continue getting irrationally angry at the drop of a hat, or in this case, at the rip of a cardboard sign, and he was fine with that. 

He spun on his heel and sulked into the living room, sarcastically thanking the manager for another early morning that he did not ask for. What was up with him being woken up at the asscrack of dawn recently? Nezumi was not a fan of it. 

He stopped in his tracks on his way to the kitchen and took in the room around him. It was a sorry sight, that was for sure. He was surrounded by a plethora of ripped boxes and wads of packing tape he’d flung off his fingers in annoyance when searching for something, and it reeked of dust and rain water. He could only imagine the looks he’d receive if he were to bring someone in here, hell, _Inukashi_ would probably make fun of him for it too, but that clearly wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, so he’d let it be for now.

The boxes were ugly, sure, but they served as a reminder. A reminder that he needed to haul ass and get out of there as soon as possible. Him staying in one place for anything longer than two years was unheard of; he just couldn’t do it. 

The essence of familiarity raged under his skin like a fire the longer he stayed in one place. Being perceived by others, just being known and a constant in people's lives, was something he could never become comfortable with, and he was in dire need of a constantly changing setting. 

At least once he’s gone, he’ll have an excuse not to have any friends, because how could he form things like that if he’s always ‘the new guy’? Relationships of any kind are highly overrated anyways. 

But there will inevitably come a time when he feels the flames begin to consume him from the inside out, and that’s when he’ll know it’s time to run. Time to run and go somewhere completely foreign to him; Nezumi knew he would get to that point soon, and he was only just beginning to smell the metaphorical smoke. 

He will remain an enigma in everyone’s lives, those interacting with him questioning their sanity once he seems to completely vanish into thin air, picking everything up with him, and taking off as fast as he’d come. He’s not meant to live like everyone else, he can’t handle it, so he will continue living as he does with no issues.

This city will soon mean nothing to him, not that it means a whole lot now. Inukashi will one day realize he’s stopped seeing them every morning for a brief conversation, the lady at the front desk will notice a dark blur that passes every night and day is suddenly missing, and Rikiga will receive a two week notice and simply never hear from him again. 

The boxes will disappear and the city will turn to ash in his mind, this brief chapter in his life soon torn to shreds in his hands, and becoming totally meaningless.

Nezumi nodded to himself.

That’s exactly what was going to happen, and he’d give himself another six months or so to do it. Maybe he’d go to a different country this time. Somewhere far, far away. 

*

Nezumi slammed his door shut - definitely way too loud, sorry, neighbors - and locked it behind him, patting over all of his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed before leaving.

It felt as though something were missing, like his subconscious was telling him a carton of smokes was absent from his jeans, even though he’d never touched a cigarette in his life. Like it was a subtle nudge he should pick up some new habit to ease his daily anxiety.

Nezumi felt fine at the moment, but maybe his brain was picking up on something he hadn’t yet. 

No, that was a stupid idea, he had enough bad habits already, he thought to himself as he nervously chewed the skin around his nails, but maybe he’d consider it … later.

Nezumi huffed and shook his head, trying to clear away the obsessive thoughts his mind conjured as it got bored, stomping down the hallway towards the elevator. 

He waved to the elderly woman who stuck her head out of one of the passing apartments, likely confused by all the racket coming from the hall. She grinned back in a way that was definitely meant as more than friendly and made Nezumi cringe, immediately retracting his wave and picking up the pace with his head down.

Why was everyone here so _weird_? 

Once in the elevator he sighed in relief and leaned his head back against the wall, no longer jumping at the initial jolt of the room like he used to when he first moved in; a _lot_ of maintenance needed to be done to this place. 

He focused on the whirring of the elevator working him down to the lobby and brought his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He felt unusually groggy this morning, and Nezumi blamed it entirely on the dreams he had last night. He never dreamed, or at least he never remembered any of them if he did, but last night was different, and his brain didn’t seem too keen about it. 

Instead of eight hours of the complete black void of unconsciousness he’d grown so fond of, his mind was full to the brim last night; bursting. 

He dreamed of a white rabbit with the biggest red eyes he’d ever seen. 

It’s fur so white it was borderline translucent, and no matter where Nezumi went, it insisted on following him, hopping in the air and wiggling its nose. 

And instead of getting flustered at the insistent creature invading his space for so long, Nezumi welcomed its presence, and it almost made him feel … happy. Well, maybe happy was the wrong word. He felt content, and safe. Like the rabbit symbolized something greater, and even though Nezumi kept tripping over it and it was determined to get in his way, he still felt like the rabbit was there for a very important reason.

He was by no means a dream expert and had no fucking clue what any of that could mean, for all he knew he saw a rabbit on TV last night and didn’t remember, and it bounced into his little mind. 

Nezumi looked up as the elevator dinged and watched the doors slide open. 

Maybe he’d pick up a dream book while he was out or something… and some goddamn cigarettes. 

*

Inukashi was propped up against the wall outside of the apartment building, arms crossed and lips stretched into a smug grin when Nezumi walked outside. 

If he hadn’t known anything about Inukashi he would’ve sworn they were just granted the highest promotion at their job. It was a look of success, for sure.

“I’m king of the streets!” they shouted at him with their arms outstretched.

Nezumi stuttered to a halt, not expecting to get into a conversation that morning. He felt as though he’d already heard way too much leave their mouth today, and he rolled his eyes the moment he processed their statement. 

He turned to face them. "More like a total brat who couldn’t handle moving a few feet, but sure, let's go with that,” he replied scornfully and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. 

“Oh, c’mon, you would’ve felt all weird if I was in front of somewhere else, don’t ya’ think? I’m part of your morning rituals now! You’re a routine kinda guy, I know that for sure,” they smirked.

“And you being elsewhere would’ve made my mornings so much easier,” Nezumi sighed wistfully and looked up at the sky, only tripping a little when Inukashi reached out to shove him.

“Oh, shut up, I’m your favorite person here. You don’t even gotta tell me. I just _know_. Don’t you have a job to get to?”

Nezumi reached for his phone to check the time.

He had about another hour and a half before his shift started.

“No, actually, because the weirdest thing happened earlier this morning,” he explained, feigning shock and confusion, “the batshit crazy homeless person who lives outside my building threw a fit for no reason and woke me up three hours earlier than I wanted … Can you believe it?”

Inukashi chuckled and nodded their head as Nezumi spoke, flapping their hand in the air, signalling for him to cut it out. 

“I guess that’s to be expected though,” he continued dramatically, “you know how homeless people in New York are.”

Inukashi laughed. "They’re the fucking worst, and so are you." They pointed a finger in his face with a grin. 

Nezumi shook his head, feeling his mouth turn up the tiniest bit, but he turned to hide it, his hair blowing across the side of his face.

“I better get going anyways. Wouldn’t want you to have another episode and take it out on me,” he replied, looking down the street at the passing cars. 

Inukashi snorted. "Where you headed so bright and early if you’re not going to work? I didn’t know you did anything else.”

Nezumi knew that was a common thought shared amongst the few people he knew, but he always felt hurt for a brief second anytime it was mentioned. He didn’t like when others acknowledged it. Only he could, and he had his reasons to focus so much on work anyways, but Inukashi clearly didn’t get that. 

He raised an eyebrow at them. "You are ever so kind. Not sure though. Might take a walk, or go to some bakery on sixth.”

He definitely wasn’t sure about that last part.

“Karan’s?” they asked, suddenly interested.

Nezumi nodded, eyebrows furrowing. "How do you know about it?”

Inukashi scoffed. “I _talk_ to people. Maybe you should try it out sometime. I’ve heard it’s good for you; helps the development of the brain,” they explained, waving their hands around their head for emphasis.

“Quit being a smartass.”

“It’s my love language,” they quipped, “but I’ve been there a couple times too, just in passing. You ever seen that one kid who works there? Not sure how he got a job looking like that.”

Nezumi suddenly felt his heart in his throat at Inukashi’s comment, wondering if they were talking about who immediately popped into his head. The one who plagued Nezumi with so much anxiety for reasons unbeknownst to him just the day before.

He pursed his lips and looked up at the sky, pretending to think way too hard about who they could be mentioning and ignoring the fuzziness in his head. 

“Not sure. Maybe… What was so weird about them?” he finally asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Inukashi shrugged, eyeing him carefully. "Just looked odd -- albino or something. Doesn’t really matter though, heard the food’s kickass.”

Nezumi nodded slowly but didn’t respond.

Is that what it was? Albinism? No, it couldn’t have been that, Nezumi didn’t think such a uniform scar coincided with the effects of albinism. But then again, maybe he’d gotten that from some childhood accident, or, well-

“Alright, you’re starting to freak me out now. We never spend this much time together. I’m starting to feel like _you_. Get out of my bubble,” Inukashi broke the silence. 

Nezumi sighed in relief at the thought of being able to direct his thoughts elsewhere.

“My pleasure,” he replied and immediately turned around to make his way towards the next destination in mind. 

“Hey!” Inukashi called.

He groaned and spun around, bending his knees and throwing his head back, putting on a show of wanting to get the fuck out of there _fast_.

Inukashi squinted at him for a moment and Nezumi was already envisioning himself tearing up their next sign himself.

“You good?” is all they asked.

Nezumi glared back. The hell kind of question was that? Why did Inukashi care whether or not he was _good_?

“I’m amazing,” he said.

He then turned around and began walking away before they could reply, knowing for a fact they wouldn’t believe him, but he couldn’t care less. Why would anyone care how Nezumi was doing? Nezumi’s feelings were definitely something that should matter least in the world. 

“If you say so!” he heard being shouted from behind him, followed by a, “get me a donut!”

And with that, he stalked towards his least favorite place. 

*

Nezumi wasn’t one to believe in supernatural beings, but he was one hundred percent certain that looking into the barista’s eyes again, even for a second, might cause him to drop dead.

Whether from some sort of magic demon vampire powers or by being sent into anxiety induced cardiac arrest, he didn’t know, but the thought of walking back inside the bakery that stood before him had him practically hyperventilating. 

Okay, that was a bit dramatic, to the people walking by him he probably had the most bored look they’d ever seen plastered across his face, but inside he felt his guts twist and didn’t know why. It was killing him. 

He leaned against the glass window of the shop, his back to it, and stared directly into the sun, hoping his retinas would simply disintegrate, and then maybe he could go inside without making eye contact with anyone at all.

Mmmm … No. That was a terrifying idea. He could also just grow up and walk inside like a normal person. Maybe both ideas were equally as terrifying. 

Nezumi was fully aware that to most people he was more than intimidating. He was tall, broad, had a mean look constantly engraved into his face, and seemed to be pissed off with everyone that came into contact with him. Mostly because everyone he spoke to were idiots with no social skills.

But inside, he was a wreck. An angry, paranoid, anxiety riddled wreck, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He glanced at the handle on the door once, twice, three times, and then realized he was being a total idiot and finally yanked on it, forcing the tension in his shoulders to ease the second he stepped in. 

He pleaded with his brain to let him function like a normal human being in that moment and not as though every motion he made was breaking his bones, but with one sweep of the place, just like last time, he did feel slightly calmer. 

He never thought of himself as much of a Christmas guy, but the setting was straight out of a Hallmark film and he couldn’t help but feel a little jolly. 

The bakery was a bit busier than last time, longer lines and more overall noise than before, but there were still a few open tables which was good. He didn’t want to stand the entire time he had his drink. 

And apparently his brain had already decided he was going to stay to drink his coffee without him even realizing it. Great. 

He walked up to the back of the line, only a few people in front of him, and noticed the woman from earlier was working the register instead of the barista. He wondered why he wasn’t out here helping this time, and started preparing for the man to kick the back door open and come charging out with a tray of drinks like last time.

This also made Nezumi realize he couldn’t even remember the guys name. It started with an ‘S’, he was sure … Shawn? No, definitely not a Shawn. Shawn was the name of a moronic, blonde surfer boy, and this guy didn’t seem like the surfer type.

Whatever, it didn’t matter anyway, he was just eternally grateful he wasn’t greeted by him, but instead the sweet older woman who runs the place; at least the discomfort he felt around her was manageable. 

After a few agonizing minutes of tapping his feet and messing with a loose thread on his shirt, he’d finally reached the counter and was ready to order.

“Nice to see you again!” the woman, Karan, smiled at him and Nezumi couldn’t help but give one in return.

He swiftly brought up a hand to cover it though and lightly cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, it’s a sweet place you got here. Felt like I should come back," he shrugged and glanced away from her and up at the menu. He didn’t feel right being an asshole to her. Just her employees. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, you’re too kind! That means a lot."

They exchanged the usual talk as he ordered the same thing as always, not surprised, but still annoyed when she asked if he was _sure_ that’s all he wanted. 

“I’m sure. It’s all I really like,” he explained.

She pouted and punched in his order into the computer. “Well, that’s no fun. You need a little spice in your life every once in awhile,” she replied simply, a motherly tone weaving through her sentence.

Nezumi didn’t know how to respond to this as he wholeheartedly disagreed, in fact he thought he could use even less ‘spice in his life’, possibly by moving to the middle of nowhere and never speaking to anyone again. 

He just gave her a tight-lipped smile and handed her the total, already having it memorized, and fortunately she didn’t seem to mind his silence.

“You can take a seat wherever and I’ll have it brought out to you when it’s done,” she said in her too-genuine customer service voice and handed him his receipt. 

He nodded in thanks and took the paper from her, feeling less stressed now as he strode over to the window seat he liked most. 

It was weirdly sunny out for this time of year and so early in the morning, the streets of the city seeming impossibly more crowded. He fidgeted as he sat and watched the strangers walking up and down the sidewalk, twiddling his thumbs, then picking at hangnails.

He felt like something was missing, like he was missing some sort of protective barrier he was used to. 

He looked down at his hands on the empty table, and that’s when he realized.

A book.

He forgot to bring a book, even just a journal to write in to keep busy. Of course.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Idiot,” he mumbled to himself. 

It was stupid, but he felt almost naked without one. Not having a story to shove his face in or something to write while in public to avoid interaction had him feeling incredibly uneasy, and now the trip to the bakery seemed pointless. What was he supposed to do while he sat here then, stare at a wall? 

The walls in this place didn’t seem particularly interesting though, so he opted for taking in the world outside and listening in on the conversations around him instead. 

He watched the shadows of civilians stretch with every step they took and the sunlight bounce off the sidewalk, making it shimmer like glitter and cement were the combination that created it.

Small talk and rants to friends going on behind and in front of him filled his thoughts as he people-watched some more, one conversation about a devastated woman whose date stood her up seeming the most intriguing, so he focused on that while he waited, distracting him completely. 

The woman was just getting to the climax of the story now, and Nezumi tried to tune out the bored comments coming from her friend, only said as a way to pretend they were interested. The woman finally confronted the guy who stood her up, not through text, but in _person_. Damn, she had balls, Nezumi thought, but her story was cut off by a voice suddenly beside him.

“You should’ve told me you were here.” 

Nezumi jolted back to reality and slammed his knee against the table, cursing at both the loud noise emitted from it and the pain he felt, swiftly reaching down to rub it. He hated when people snuck up on him. 

He glared up at the perpetrator, and of course, it was exactly who he was expecting and simultaneously hoping he could avoid somehow. White hair a tousled mess and black visor askew. 

“Why would I do that? You weren’t even out here anyways,” he replied, straightening back up and ignoring the dull ache now running down his leg. 

The barista, _Shion_ , didn’t give an immediate answer, seemingly concerned over Nezumi’s knee and eyed it with a worried look as Nezumi stared up at him, awaiting a response. 

“I didn’t get to pay for your coffee like I said I would,” he finally said and raised the cup to emphasize his point, “but I didn’t ruin it like last time either! I wasn’t out here earlier because I was cleaning up the mess I made in the back,” he confessed, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. 

Why was he not surprised?

“Of course you were. I barely know you and it’s obvious being a klutz is your forte.” 

The barista looked taken aback for a second, like he had forgotten how conversations with Nezumi worked. 

“ _I’m_ the klutz, but you’re the one who just hit your knee so hard you almost broke the table?” Shion smirked, cup still in hand.

Nezumi glanced at it, painfully aware of how cold it was probably getting by the second, but he didn’t feel the need to end this pointless discussion yet.

“Maybe you should get better tables,” he shrugged.

Shion’s smirk then widened into a smile, and just like a moth to a flame, Nezumi’s eyes were pulled directly toward it. He couldn’t figure out why he was so hyper aware of every expression this kid made.

“It’s funny how you insist on arguing with me every time I’m around, and I don’t even know your name.”

“You don’t need to know anything about me,” Nezumi scoffed, “but what you need to do is give me that coffee already.” 

Shion didn’t react to Nezumi’s attitude and set the cup down on the table. 

“But maybe I _want_ to know more about you. You’re an interesting person,” he replied with the same meaningful smile on his face and deep sincerity in his eyes, “is that seat taken?”

Nezumi broke the eye contact he was having so much trouble keeping earlier to glance at the chair across from him.

He instantly brought his leg up to rest his foot on it. 

“Yes.” 

Shion eyebrows furrowed and he looked back at Nezumi, clearly trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious until they were in some sort of staring contest, Shion waiting for Nezumi to crack. He was obviously disappointed when Nezumi didn’t even budge. 

“You’re difficult,” Shion sighed. 

Nezumi looked at him over the rim of his cup as he took his first sip, then set it back down. “I don’t know you. I’m not obligated to make any interaction with you easy.” 

Shion looked a little discouraged at Nezumi’s response, whatever light he had behind his eyes seeming to dim a bit; Nezumi insisted he couldn’t stand the guy but couldn’t help but mentally kick himself for constantly driving people away like this. 

And just as Shion’s body language began to tell Nezumi he was going to walk away, he exhaled loudly and brought his foot down from the seat, crossing his legs instead. 

Shion stopped and glanced at him, then at the chair, then back at Nezumi again. Nezumi didn’t say anything but raised his eyebrows and put an arm out, motioning for Shion to take the hint and sit down already. 

Shion beamed and practically bounced towards the seat, pulling it out and sitting down at lightning speed.

The second he was seated, Nezumi felt on edge. He felt jittery all of a sudden, and extremely confused with himself. He never felt bad telling people to fuck off, but this time he did.

“Thank you for so _graciously_ offering me a place to sit,” he said.

“More like succumbing to your silent begging, but whatever,” Nezumi replied, his words muffled by his cup as he took another sip. It definitely wasn’t warm. 

He cringed at the aftertaste of cold coffee and set it back down on the table. 

He noticed Shion nervously picking at the skin around his nails, the same habit Nezumi had, before he spoke. 

“So, what _is_ your name?” he asked. 

“Are you gonna get in trouble for sitting over here and not working?” Nezumi ignored the question. 

Shion gave an airy chuckle at Nezumi’s not-so-subtlety in evading the question, but didn’t push it, which Nezumi was grateful for.

He didn’t like giving people his name if he could avoid doing so, especially with people like random baristas he’d only met once. 

“No, I can take a break whenever I want. I come here at around five in the morning to get most of the prepwork done anyways so there isn’t much to do but work the register, make drinks, or take something out from the back,” he explained.

Nezumi watched Shion closely as he spoke, taking in the way his mouth formed certain words, how animated his eyes were when saying anything -- studying him. He felt the strangest urge to learn as much about this stranger as possible, yet didn’t want to learn anything about him at all. 

It was pointless for Nezumi to retain anything about anyone, but he had said Nezumi seemed like an interesting person, and maybe he secretly felt the same about Shion too. 

Shion seemed to notice this and a light flush appeared across his cheeks and nose, the last word of his sentence trailing off. 

Nezumi cleared his throat. 

“I didn’t know helping before opening warranted breaks whenever you feel like it. You sleeping with that lady to get what you want or something?” he nodded his head in Karan’s direction. She was taking orders from the last few people in line.

Shion gaped at him for a moment, like Nezumi had just said the most shocking thing he’d ever heard. Giggles began spilling out of him until he was full-on belly laughing at the table, and now it was Nezumi’s turn to blush. What did he say?

Shion’s laugh was higher-pitched and loud, but not harsh on the ears which he was thankful for, even though he felt completely left in the dark. 

It wasn’t disruptive enough to cause people to stare at least. Nezumi was sure he’d die if they did.

“I’d appreciate it if you shut up now, you’re making me feel awfully stupid and I don’t even know why yet.”

He continued staring at Shion, unamused, until he finally settled down, eyes still crinkled from laughter.

“No, I’m not sleeping with her,” he clarified, giggles still finding their way through his words, “that’s my mom.”

Okay, well he totally felt like an idiot now. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” he asked, crossing his arms in frustration.

“We don’t look alike?” Shion grinned.

He couldn’t figure out if Shion was being serious or not, but he looked between the two for a moment anyways, even though he definitely had the answer to that question already.

“Can’t say that you do.” 

Nezumi was sure Shion was going to take this opportunity to elaborate on the elephant in the room, the fact that his features were bordering on nonhuman and how Nezumi had never seen someone like him in his life. But he didn’t, so Nezumi would continue wondering. He didn’t really mind anyways. It was none of his business. 

Nezumi then tapped on his cup to avoid looking back up, still recovering from asking Shion if he slept with his _mother_. 

He saw Shion shrug in his peripheral and suddenly the cup was disappearing from in front of him. Nezumi sat up and gawked at the man across the table, who was now taking a sip from _his_ drink like it was no big deal. 

His face immediately contorted in disgust and he slid it back over to Nezumi, who just looked down at it like it’d grown a head. 

“How do you drink that stuff? It tastes like poison.” 

“You’re crazy,” Nezumi replied, dumbfounded, “I don’t want it anymore, have the poison,” he groaned and pushed the cup in Shion’s direction.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he laughed and pushed it back, “I don’t have cooties.” 

“I don’t know you, for all I know, you’re a pathological liar and _totally_ have cooties.” 

The contradictions Nezumi’s gathered of this guy’s personality so far were staggering. He seemed shy and eager to please, yet pushy and overly confident. And was also a total freak for drinking a stranger’s coffee without even _asking_. Did he think they were all buddy-buddy now for speaking to each other more than ten minutes?

Shion leaned forward with his chin in his palm, squishing one side of his face up with the rest of his hand. It was almost … cute. Or something. Just almost. 

“So get to know me!” he exclaimed, “you scared to meet new people or something?”

If only he knew. 

“Of course not, I just don’t feel the need to get to know you. You’re just the barista.”

Shion seemed to ponder Nezumi’s statement, which was totally unnecessary, Nezumi was only stating facts. Why did he have to get to know someone who was just there to sell him a drink and go? Even though that’s definitely not what was just happening here and Nezumi wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. 

“Go on a date with me.”

Nezumi also needed to get his hearing checked. 

“What?” he asked, and leaned closer to Shion, because he clearly didn’t hear him correctly.

“Go on a date with me,” he grinned. 

They were close enough to each other now that Nezumi could make out more details of Shion’s face than before, like how the mysterious scar across his cheek seemed to be a different texture than the rest of his porcelain toned skin.

He was sure he’d heard him right now, but the only thing filling his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat. Why was he asking him on a _date_? Like as a friend, or something else? Either way Nezumi felt terrified. There was something seriously wrong with this guy; Nezumi was genuinely worried. 

He squinted at the barista for what felt like hours, as if that would make the situation any clearer to him. 

“Are you on drugs?” is the first thing that came out of Nezumi’s mouth, and he noticed the woman at the table closest to them turn her head in their direction. 

Shion frowned, but Nezumi could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

“Do you only date guys who do drugs?”

Nezumi didn’t laugh.

“I don’t date,” Nezumi said firmly, feeling all of his walls go up at once.

He was no longer leaning in close, feeling Shion’s coffee breath bounce off his face, but sitting up as straight as a board, the urge to run intensifying every millisecond.

But as always, Shion was determined.

“Okay, so we won’t call it a date! We can just … hang out. Get something to eat or … Whatever you want to do,” he replied easily. He was sitting up too now, clearly sensing that Nezumi was uncomfortable. 

“You don’t even know my name,” was the only response Nezumi could think of. 

“Because you refuse to give it to me,” he gently pointed out, taking off his visor to ruffle his hair before putting it back on, not looking away from Nezumi. 

How was this guy real?

“Because you’re just my barista. You don’t need it.”

Shion rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated laugh, “I’d just like to get to know you better, that’s all … Even just as a friend. Like I said, you seem interesting,” he said sheepishly, now anxiously itching at the side of his neck. 

Nezumi rubbed a hand over his face and then crossed his arms once again tightly across his chest. He had no clue how to get out of this one and could feel the sweat forming on his forehead now.

“You have terrible taste in people,” Nezumi felt his jaw clench. 

“I think I have great taste,” he replied with a warm smile. That stupid fucking smile. 

They sat in silence for a minute until Shion shifted in his seat, knocking his leg against Nezumi’s in the process and making him feel like his entire limb had been set ablaze. 

This is what inevitably set him off and he was suddenly pushing himself up out of his chair without even realizing it, disregarding the scraping of the chair on wood and the fact that he was probably making a scene. He just couldn’t take this right now. Or ever.

“I have to go,” is all he said, no other emotion but frustration evident in his voice, trying his hardest to ignore the hurt look on Shion’s face that was tugging him back down to his seat. 

He was about to take off when Shion stopped him with a light grab of his wrist, the gentlest touch somehow causing his entire body to stop moving. 

“Hey, hey! I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I was just … I don’t know …,” he was at a loss for words but spoke earnestly, and Nezumi had never seen so much emotion in a person’s eyes over something so miniscule before. Over _himself_ before. Something that _he_ did, and he hated it.

Nezumi took a deep breath and tugged his wrist from Shion’s grasp, and Shion retracted his hand instantly to put it in his lap instead. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

He stormed out of the bakery then, not risking another look back at the barista or the stares he knew he was receiving in that moment. He felt like his skin was full of pins and needles and his insides ached. He replayed Shion pulling his hand away in his mind as he walked down the sidewalk; It was like he’d been burned. Like Nezumi’s anger had bubbled to the surface and made his skin physically hot to the touch, and Shion couldn’t handle it. 

Nezumi hated feeling this way more than anything. He felt like a moron, a fuck up, a mess, like he just missed something so important, but like he dodged a bullet aimed directly at the center of his forehead. 

Yet more than anything, he had no idea how he felt at all. It was too many emotions balled into one that it eventually made zero sense and he couldn’t decipher anything going on his head. So on his way to work, he tried his best to shut everything down inside of him as a way to feel nothing.

It always took some time, but it was the one thing he considered himself good at. 

*

“Honey, don’t be so hard on yourself. He’s just … skittish ... He’ll come around soon.” 

Shion sat and watched, hypnotized, as his mother mixed and prepped the dry ingredients for tomorrow's desserts. It was something that always calmed him, ever since he was a kid, but her voice immediately broke his trance. 

He’ll come around.

He sighed and averted his gaze to his legs instead, gently swinging them back and forth like a child on a chair too tall for him as he sat on one of the tables in the backroom. 

“I don’t think he’s ever gonna talk to me again,” Shion mumbled, and he wasn’t being dramatic either. 

He knew right off the bat the man was different, that starting any conversation with him would be the most difficult task in the world, but he felt like he had to. He had never been so intrigued by and drawn to someone in his life, so he forced his way into the man’s personal space even if it meant Shion got insulted a few times in the process.

He didn’t seem like much of a people person, but Shion desperately wanted to be the exception, and he didn’t know why. Well, he sort of knew why. He was beautiful. Probably the most enchanting person he’d ever seen, but there was a tug towards him that wasn’t physical, one Shion hadn’t felt before.

He didn’t know how he expected to get away with asking him out the second time they met though, that had been a dumb move on his part. 

Shion could feel his mothers eyes on him without even looking up, knowing she was staring at him with that look she had when she knew her son was hurting. It was used when he fell as a toddler and scraped his knees, when he dealt with his first heartbreak, and now, when someone he really didn’t know in the slightest rejected him, and yet he still had the audacity to be upset over it. 

“Well, nothing will go the way you want with an attitude like that,” she reasoned softly and went back to mixing. 

Shion knew she was right, she always was, she was his mother after all, but he didn’t respond. He knew the only words that would come out would be whiney and pathetic. 

He just let the light clings and clangs of her whisk against the mixing bowl and the rustling of her apron as she wiped off her hands fill the kitchen. 

It was nearly five now, the bakery empty at the moment because not many people wanted to buy cakes or coffee during the evening, but the memory of that morning still lingered like it happened minutes ago. 

He will admit he felt humiliated the second the man ran out as all eyes went from the door he rushed out of back to Shion’s bright red face. But he didn’t blame him at all, he did put him on the spot and was maybe a little pushy about it and just made him nervous, so he left. He was a stranger after all, you can’t just ask _strangers_ that and expect the outcome to be amazing. 

He didn’t even know the guys name, though he had nicknamed him ‘Storm’ in his head. The dark hair and stone cold, grey eyes reminded him of nothing short of looming clouds and he thought it fit perfectly. Maybe he’d be disappointed if he did ever learn his name, because it wouldn’t fit as well in his mind as the one he’d already picked. 

He felt heat rise to his neck and cheeks as he realized how much of a weirdo he really was. Picking names out for strangers… 

He was tempted to text Safu after the incident earlier, but didn’t want to risk sounding like an over dramatic teenage girl, so he decided against it. He knew she’d tease him about it. He could already hear her voice in his head.

“So let me get this straight. You’re moping over a guy you don’t even know the name of denying a date with you after you asked him in a public setting that clearly made him anxious already? And only after knowing him for a day? You’re a real romantic, Shion.” 

Then she would probably give him dating advice that he was too stubborn to take or give him a list of dating apps to lift his spirits that he would refuse to use, because ‘people on those apps could be murderers, _y’know!_ ’

He’d been distracted all day after that -- getting orders wrong, spilling drinks, and his mother even shouted at him for not doing what she asked correctly after explaining it three times, which was understandable. He loved his job, but the whole thing threw him for a loop, and he couldn’t focus at all afterwards. 

“Okay,” he heard his mom say next to him as she set her whisk down. 

Shion looked up just as she stepped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders and her forehead against his. She used to do this when he was younger during serious talks. She always said their thoughts became connected this way, a pathway forming from one brain to the other, and it’d be easier for her to get her point across.

He didn’t believe any of that now, but the action still made him smile. 

“I’ve had enough of seeing you sad over some boy,” she said and he felt her frown against him. 

Shion rolled his eyes and giggled when he felt her frown deepen.

“I’m just a little embarrassed, that’s all. I’ll get over it soon, just give me another day or so.” 

“I was going to, but you being sad another day is a day too long for me… so I have an idea for you.” 

Shion hummed.

“I may or may not know where your little crush works … and it’s just down the street.”

Shion’s eyes widened, that definitely wasn’t what he was expecting her to say at all. He thought she was just going to let him leave early, give him some personal space until his little depression passed, not this. 

“You want me to show up at his work? Don’t you think that’s a bit … creepy?” he asked, the idea seeming slightly disconcerting. 

“I was worried about that at first,” she said, her nose scrunching up, “but I was thinking I could send you off with something sweet to give him as a sort of peace offering. Maybe apologize to him again and try to talk it out. He’s probably calmed down by now; how does that sound?”

The idea sounded great in theory, and in a perfect world he’d show up and the man would have a completely different attitude, sweep him off his feet, maybe even ask _him_ out this time ... Maybe on a different planet. Mom was right though, this guy was skittish like a homeless kitten and Shion could never figure out what the other’s next move would be. 

Shion closed his eyes for a moment and weighed his options, trying to figure out what the best course of action was and the probability of getting punched in the face as soon as he saw him. It seemed likely, but Shion was willing to take the hit. 

“I think it’s a good plan,” he said slowly, “but if I come home with a black eye, it’s your fault.”

His mom pulled back from him and laughed. “Oh please, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s all talk, I can tell. He’s just … different.” 

Shion nodded. That was one way to put it.

He stared off for a moment, contemplating the idea some more, then nodded to himself. He really wanted to see the man again, he _had_ to, to get another chance to give a serious apology and be on better terms.The last thing he wanted was for this person he was so interested in to forever think of him as the creep who tried to ask him out and ran him out of a bakery. 

Shion hopped off the table and hugged her. She embraced him right back and swayed them side to side as she did so, Shion taking in the scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon, the faint smell of the perfume she’s used for years and chocolate cake. 

“You get yourself so worked up,” she said into his hair, “if this doesn’t work out, just let it go, yeah? Not everything can go the way you want it to all the time, and some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“I know, mama,” he mumbled.

She pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek, grinning from ear to ear when Shion cringed at the feeling of her lip gloss on his face, instinctively reaching up to wipe it off with his hand. 

“Ew, mom,” he groaned.

She laughed lightly and rubbed over the mark with her thumb. "Oh, you’re fine. It looks nice actually, added some color to your cheeks.”

His face may have felt disgusting now, but Shion was incredibly grateful to have his mother. She was always understanding even when he got himself worked up over situations from being so sensitive, wanting to help everyone and freaking out when he couldn’t, and being so negative towards himself. She was always there to make him feel better. 

He trailed behind her like a puppy out of the kitchen and behind the dessert counter out front, watching as she carefully pulled out two cookies and placed them in a festive red bag.

“Here, I only made them about an hour ago so they’re still good. I hope he likes them,” she smiled and handed them over.

“If I can get close enough to offer it to him without him running away. I’ll let you know if he liked them once I’m back.”

His mother looked surprised at this, tilting her head to the side.

“You’re not gonna try and stay with him? Have a romantic night out?”

Shion made a face. Did she really think that would be in the cards tonight?

“Are you kidding? He’ll probably bolt out the emergency exit once he sees me outside his work; I doubt he’d let me anywhere near his _home_ ,” Shion replied, bewildered. 

“Maybe,” she shrugged, closing the dessert case and wiping the crumbs off her hands.

“Well, he works at the craft store just down the street. You should get going, they close soon and I’d hate for you to miss him,” she said. 

Shion looked at the clock behind him. There was no way a craft store would close this early, she had to be exaggerating. He had a feeling his mother just enjoyed playing matchmaker and wanted Shion to meet the other man so he could tell her all about it. 

He looked back at her and she gave him a knowing smile, like she was reading his mind. 

Shion exhaled. "Alright. I’ll change real quick and then head out. You’ll be okay here alone?” he asked, only now realizing he’d be leaving her here to deal with customers all by herself just so he could hopefully meet up with some _guy._

His mother made a show of looking around the empty bakery. Turning in a circle and standing on her toes to survey every table.

“I think I can manage,” she smirked.

He looked around the room too, just to double check, even though it was clear no one else was inside, like he was expecting a massive line of people to magically appear in front of him.

He turned and gave her a worried look and her eyes softened. She didn’t need to say a word, Shion knew she could handle it. Obviously -- she _owned_ the place.

He reached out to squeeze her hand then made his way towards the kitchen, heading for the stairs that lead up to their apartment above. He felt the nerves start to settle in now.

“Don’t want to see your future husband while you’re covered in flour?” she shouted up the stairs and Shion guffawed at the remark, almost tripping on his way up.

 _Future husband._ Sure. 

Once in his bedroom he frantically searched through the closet for an outfit to wear. He felt like a total idiot; he was putting way too much thought into this, but he wanted to make sure he looked nice; this was important!

In that moment he wished he was in some chick flick where there was nothing but a funny montage of friends helping him try on clothes before a night out, so they could help him make up his mind and it wasn’t all up to him.

Wait.

He turned around and lunged for his phone lying on the unmade bed. 

**To:** Safu

_going out tonight … meeting someone. what do i wear?_

His stomach didn’t feel full of butterflies, but piranhas, as he waited for a text back. He really hoped he didn’t show up once the guy was already off his shift. 

His phone chimed just a second later.

 **From:** Safu

_is he cute?_

Shion rolled his eyes. He should’ve known that would be her first response, but he didn’t know how to answer. Cute wasn’t the right word, he looked too mean to be cute, but handsome and attractive didn’t do him justice either. He also knew if he used any other descriptive word, Safu would surely make fun of him for it. 

**To:** Safu

_… maybe. he might beat me up when i see him._

Ding.

 **From** : Safu

_then wear something black. blood won’t show up._

Shion inevitably went against Safu’s sound advice and put on his brown coat, black jeans, and sneakers instead. It was comfortable, but he didn’t look underdressed. It wasn’t covered in flour and egg either, so that was a plus. 

**To** : Safu

_wore something else. black pants though._

**From** : Safu

_of course you did. don’t die._

**To** : Safu

_i think i’ll be fine._

**From** : Safu

_very reassuring, thanks._

He smiled at his phone and then looked up to check his reflection in the full-length mirror against the wall. His face dropped. He couldn’t figure out if he looked stupid or if he just felt stupid and it showed.

What was Shion even supposed to do if he was there? 

“Hi, sorry I mortified you in public and am now harassing you at your place of work. Want a cookie?” 

That might work actually, he seemed like the kind of guy to value honesty like that, but Shion was hoping to go for something a little more charming. Charming was definitely something Shion was _not_ , but he could at least pretend, because the guy was right, honestly. In reality he was just an obnoxious klutz. 

“This is fine. I feel _great_ , this will _not_ end bad, and he _will_ love the cookies that my mom made,” he muttered to himself in the mirror as he messed with his hair. 

A brief thought crossed his mind then about ‘Storm’. He wondered if he got asked on dates a lot, and that’s why he freaked out. Maybe he was just irritated that it happened again -- Shion wouldn’t doubt it. He wondered if he had friends like Safu who he could vent to about things that pissed him off, or if he was like Shion and had a mother who was the only one able to truly calm him down when incidents like today occurred. He wondered. And hopefully one day in the near future he could ask the man all the questions he wanted and get all the answers back, learning more and more about him forever. 

He stood back and gave himself a quick once-over before leaving the room. Time to go out and humiliate himself even more. 

*

Shion soon came to the realization that this was an awful idea. It only took him a few minutes to get here so the reality of the situation didn’t have time to set in until he was already there, leaning against the wall right outside the automatic doors.

Talking to him was easier in the bakery. At least in there he had a set few sentences to say when he saw him and a place to retreat to when he felt himself getting nervous and needing to get away so he didn’t spontaneously combust.

But now here he was, out in the open with nowhere to go once he was confronted and all he could do was suck it up and face the music. He really hoped he hadn’t left already and Shion was just standing out in the cold for no reason. It turns out the constant warmth of the bakery wasn’t true to the weather outside, imagine that, and this coat was doing nothing for him.

He stood out there for about ten minutes, so cold his teeth were clicking. He had the bag sitting in a pocket on the inside of his coat and just hoped he wasn’t crushing it by wrapping his arms around his body. 

He finally got his heart rate down to normal and calmed his thoughts as he focused on the condensation forming in front of him with every breath he took, and then the doors opened.

Shion jumped and turned to see what triggered them and … there he was.

He wasn’t in a work uniform like Shion expected, but the outfit he usually wears. Or so it seemed, he couldn’t get the best look at it as the man didn’t even notice he was there and turned immediately to his left instead of the right where Shion was standing.

Shion stood there, frozen, mouth opening and closing but no noise coming out. He was panicking -- what does he _say?_

Then his body was moving without him even comprehending it, jogging to be closer behind the man, and then his mouth was moving for him too.

“H-hey!” 

He came to a stop and turned around to see who shouted, their eyes locking instantaneously, and the man made a face like he was staring directly at a monster instead of a short dweeb in an oversized jacket. 

He broke eye contact with Shion to look to his right, and then to his left, like he was expecting some camera crew to jump out and claim this was all a joke. 

“Are you stalking me now?” he asked, stepping closer to Shion so there was just a little over a foot between them. 

Shion groaned inwardly because he knew this is exactly how it would go down.

“No, I’m not _stalking_ you. I just came to apologize.” 

He frowned and crossed his arms, like the mental barriers the man had were coming up to surround him, only Shion could see them now.

“You did that already.”

“I stuttered out an, ‘I’m sorry’, that’s not much of an apology if you ask me,” Shion said, trying to convey just how serious he was.

He just stood there, stormier than ever, looking over Shion’s face with such an intense expression he thought it might kill him. From this close up Shion could see the other’s jaw tensing and relaxing every couple seconds while he thought up a response.

He put his tongue in his cheek and looked at the ground instead. "You don’t need to apologize,” he mumbled.

“But I want to,” Shion pushed.

“Why is it always about what you want?” he sneered, “‘ _I_ want to get to know you’, ‘ _I_ want to apologize’. If I told you not to, then don’t.”

Shion recoiled at the aggressive tone, suddenly not sure if it was worth putting in so much effort to prove himself to a man that seemed to hate him. 

No. He had to, Shion didn’t care what he said. He was all talk. 

“Because I have to. I just do. I got you worked up and made you feel bad by asking something I shouldn’t have, and I’m _sorry_. The last thing I wanted was to make you upset ..." He reached into his coat pocket. "Want a cookie?”

He looked like he was going to shout again, but then quickly closed his mouth, looking at the bag in Shion’s hand with a blank stare.

“I’m yelling at you in the street and you’re offering me a cookie." It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Peace offering,” Shion shrugged.

The man stared some more, Shion not quite sure what to do with the silence until it was finally broken.

“You’re so confusing,” he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

“And you’re not?” Shion asked, feeling laughter fill up his insides as he noticed the tension lifting, “you just yelled at me for trying to tell you I’m sorry.”

“And now you’re giving me dessert for it. Like I said … Confusing,” he replied, reaching out to yank the bag from Shion’s hands. 

He watched as the man opened it up and looked inside, humming in appreciation, and then taking one out.

“Your mom make these?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper as he handed the bag back to Shion.

He marveled at the man's ability to so easily switch from being totally enraged to absolutely soft and gentle. 

“You mean the chick I sleep with to get a few extra breaks?”

Shion swore he saw the beginnings of a smile form on his face, like the Storm’s clouds were just starting to pull back, but he made sure to cover it by bringing a hand up to scratch his cheek. 

“Yeah that one,” he said and looked up, and Shion felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. 

Just like Shion wondered about the man himself, he also wondered if he was aware of just how breathtaking he was. The street light shone down on him, causing his eyelashes to cast a shadow across his cheeks, and stray hairs fell from his ponytail and framed his face in a way that made him prettier than anything Shion had seen before. 

“Yeah, she made them just a couple hours ago,” Shion replied nonchalantly. 

The man nodded and didn’t respond, turning his head to watch the cars passing by as he ate.

Shion didn’t want to be caught staring so he pulled out the second cookie and turned to look at the cars too, moving some inches to the left to be closer to him, hoping he wouldn’t notice and move away.

He didn’t. 

The two stood there for a few minutes while they finished, neither feeling the need to say a word yet and letting the tension fully evaporate before moving on. 

Once he was finished, the man wiped his hands clean and put them in the pockets of his leather jacket, not taking his eyes off the street. Shion could tell he wasn’t just watching the cars anymore, his eyes were glossed over and unmoving, like he was deep in thought; Shion knew better than to ask what about. 

He took advantage of the opportunity then to steal glances every few seconds, taking in the other’s presence before it was time to part ways. He’d never seen someone with such pronounced and unique features before. Well … besides Shion himself, but that was a little different.

The man beside him was mesmerizing; irresistible. Perfect skin, prominent cheekbones, eyes so feminine but capable of harboring the sharpest of glares. Shion knew he had to be seeing someone at the moment, or more likely _multiple_ people; he had to be. How could he not be?

The thought was disheartening, but Shion knew he was right. There was no way he lived this life alone or without a constant fling. No wonder he didn’t want to go on a date with Shion, his options were probably endless and a random barista was nowhere near the top of that list.

As if feeling something watching him, he looked back at Shion, seemingly not surprised when he totally _was_ staring. 

He raised his eyebrows, asking a question with his eyes, but Shion didn’t say anything back. He didn’t have an answer. 

“You have glitter on your face,” he said matter-of-factly, like he wasn’t confused -- just letting him know. 

Shion didn’t care at the moment but made a mental note to whine to his mom about never kissing his cheek again later.

“Can I walk you home?” Shion blurted out. 

A swooping feeling attacked Shion’s stomach the moment he asked and the man’s eyes narrowed; he didn’t say a word.

Why did he _ask_ that? He hadn’t meant to say that all, but his mouth was just getting him into all sorts of trouble for fun today it seemed. Asking to spend more time together was evidently against whatever rules the other had set for himself.

“Was that just as bad as the date question?” he blanched, growing more concerned every second the man didn’t say anything. 

He pursed his lips. "Yes and no,” he said. 

“What does that mea-”

Before Shion could finish his sentence the man was already walking away from him in the opposite direction.

Shion frowned and looked around for a moment, not sure what to do from there. Was that a no then? Was he supposed to walk home now all, “whelp, I screwed that up again, but he liked the cookies, mom!”

He took off in a sprint to be beside him again anyways, because if he thought Shion was so annoying, he might as well live up to the expectation. 

Once he caught up with him they walked side by side, Shion slowing to a stroll. The other turned to look at him, playfully rolling his eyes before returning his gaze to the sidewalk. 

Shion was just glad he finally got the hint for once, since that seemed to be a recurring problem for him. 

“You gonna randomly show up at my house next time? Stalk me somewhere else?” the man asked.

Shion chuckled. "Just to bring you flowers, maybe,” he joked.

The man groaned like it was the grossest thing he’d ever heard and Shion couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re very negative,” Shion giggled. 

“You’re just insufferable.”

“I think you’re lying,” Shion admitted, “I think you enjoy having me around and just like to be difficult for no reason.”

“Ugh, god, you sound like someone else I know,” the man replied.

Shion wondered who that someone could be. Did he act this way toward everyone? Probably, and that’s likely why Shion didn’t take most of his insults to heart.

The moon was full and created a lit pathway that mingled with the street lamps, making it easier to see than usual. It may have only been evening but it was starting to get dark fast, so Shion was grateful for the extra light. He usually got nervous walking around here with just the lamps and neon signs in stores paving the way.

“Have you lived here long?” Shion asked.

“Are you really trying to make small talk with me?”

“Just thought you’d like some conversation,” Shion shrugged. It was partly true, he was just trying to weasel as much as he could out of the guy. 

“Do I seem like the type to appreciate conversation?”

“Of course not, but I thought it was worth a shot.”

The man laughed, just a short burst of sound, and then it was gone. Shion turned his head towards him and noticed the flash of teeth right before they disappeared. Shion couldn’t help but smile at the sound, something he’d never heard before. He’d heard sarcastic chuckles that lasted only a second and noticed forced smiles, but never this, and he wanted more of it.

Maybe not now, because Shion knew that wasn’t likely, but eventually. 

The rest of the walk was somehow both tense and relaxing all at once. There was no more talking after that, the two of them feeling fine falling into a comfortable silence instead, but the tension arose every now and then when one of them would accidentally lean too much to one side while walking, or when they reached an arm up to scratch an itch.

There was a constant brushing of hands, knuckles against knuckles, and Shion could feel the man’s fingers twitch and pull closer to his own body, the aura around him sort of shifting every time it happened, but not necessarily in a bad way. Shion wasn’t exactly sure what vibe he was getting from him; he was an extremely hard person to figure out. 

Shion would lift his arm to push the hair from his eyes or rub his nose and their elbows would knock into each other briefly, Shion holding his breath to make sure the man next to him didn’t explode, since he always seemed on the brink of doing just that. 

He also had to fight the urge to grab the man’s hand to keep him from fidgeting nonstop. 

Shion came to a stop once the other did, now standing in front of a tall brick apartment building. It was nice, nothing fancy, but it was decent for where it was. It had that signature New York look that Shion loved. 

“Well, this is my place,” the man mumbled. Shion noticed the man seemed nervous now, shuffling back and forth on each foot and messing with his hair, which Shion hadn’t really seen before. He’d seen him irritated, anxious, but he stood tall each time with a stony expression, and didn’t seem like the type to get genuinely nervous -- almost _timid_. 

“You’re not gonna let me come up are yo-”

“Absolutely not,” the man interrupted. 

Shion snorted and gave him a reassuring smile. "Figured as much.” 

You could cut the tension with a knife as the two of them stared at one another, trying to think of what the next move was. Do they just say goodbye and leave? Say nothing at all? … Shake _hands_? Shion had no clue. 

“But I’ll think about the other thing,” the man rushed out. 

Shion cocked his head to the side. "About-”

“The date." He anxiously glanced over at the homeless person Shion only just now noticed, like they could give him some sort of moral support right now. “I’ll think about the date,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself. 

Shion felt the piranhas once again swarming in his stomach.

“Y-you really don’t have to,” Shion stuttered, “that was just me being dumb in the moment. I … Don’t think about it or say yes just because you feel bad.”

The last thing he’d want out of this guy was a pity date. He’d rather he just break the news to Shion and say he wasn’t interested at all.

“I’m going to think about it,” he replied in the stern voice Shion was used to now, “... You’ll see me soon, and I’ll let you know then,” he muttered. 

_You’ll see me soon_. Shion felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders right then.

“You sure?”

“Are you done talking? Yes, I’m sure. I’m a grown man, don’t worry about me,” he said with a subtle glare, “and stop being so nervous, it’s rubbing off on me -- making me feel weird." He shook his hands out like he was trying to expel the feeling completely. 

“Sorry,” Shion laughed, “you make me nervous. You’re kinda intimidating, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Shion didn’t doubt it. 

The two stood in silence, both trying to think of an excuse to stick around, Shion was sure of it, but neither could think of one. 

He watched as the man swallowed hard and then was suddenly reaching out to rest a hand on Shion’s upper arm. The contact was unexpected and almost made him jump, his entire body buzzing from one simple touch, like the skin under his clothes was completely vibrating. He tried his hardest not to let his inner freak out show on his face, but he didn’t think he was doing a very good job. 

It was a friendly gesture. Or possibly more than friendly, Shion didn’t really know what was going on anymore, but the man’s grasp was gentle, a stark contrast to his stern exterior.

“Thanks for walking me home,” he said in a near whisper, like the words were a struggle to get out, and Shion knew for a fact they were.

He began to speak, but closed his mouth to nod instead, not sure what to say, really. 

Then the man squeezed him lightly and was letting go, turning away, and walking towards the glass doors, leaving Shion feeling like the light of a thousand suns were bursting inside his chest.

He exhaled hard, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath, and was half expecting to cough up the entire _zoo_ that seemed to be running around in his stomach. Then he steadily began walking in the direction he came from, knowing his mom was probably bouncing off the walls at home waiting for him to come back and tell her every little detail. Safu too. 

“Hey, barista boy!”

Shion stopped and spun around to look at the man peeking his head outside of the door, hairs hanging delicately in front of his face as his head leaned to the side. Did he just call him barista boy?

The man looked back and then squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back for an instant, his discomfort more apparent than ever. “It’s Nezumi,” he finally said.

Nezumi… _Nezumi._

Would it be cliche to say Shion’s heart skipped a beat? Whatever, he was gonna say it anyways, because that’s exactly how it felt. Maybe he had a developing heart condition, or maybe it was just the Nezumi effect. 

He felt himself smiling like an idiot, only growing when Nezumi flapped his hand around in front of him like a maniac, trying to get Shion to drop his dumb grin and go away.

So Shion was wrong, this name _definitely_ fit more than the nickname he’d chosen. It fit perfect, and now he couldn’t imagine the man as anything else. 

“Goodnight, Nezumi!” Shion called, testing the name out for himself and slowly starting up his walk again without turning around just yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “... Night … Shion.” 

And then he was gone, the click of the door sealing their interaction closed and leaving Shion walking back home totally giddy. 

The date hadn’t even happened yet, might not even happen at all, yet Shion already had a feeling this was going to be something completely different than what he was used to. Good or bad, Shion was ready for it. He wanted it all, full force. 

The Storm that had been raging for days was just beginning to let up. It could come back at any moment, Shion knew that, but the massive raindrops were converting to a light drizzle, the clouds now dissipating to reveal a blazing sun -- and his name was Nezumi. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! Life has been /so/ hectic. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter either, but it's the longest one I've written yet, so I hope it's at least decent :( Sorry if it sucks!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3.


	4. Chapter 4

It took four days for Nezumi to show up again at the bakery, and when he did, Shion felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey, stranger,” Shion smiled and leaned up against the counter, “what can I get for you?” 

The second Shion laid eyes on Nezumi, the only word that came to mind was _stressed_.

He was paler than usual, his hair a greasy tangled mess pulled back into a ponytail, and the skin around his nails seemed especially irritated, like something had been bothering him and maybe that’s why he hadn’t shown up -- though he was still just as captivating, and he stood tall.

“Pick me up at eight,” Nezumi said, not a question at all. 

Shion raised his eyebrows at the man and felt his smile grow impossibly wider. "You’re not even gonna say hi first?”

Nezumi rolled his eyes and stomped his foot, like he couldn’t believe Shion was making his life so hard. 

“Hi … Pick me up at eight,” he repeated, this time a flush of color blooming across his face, distracting from his sickly complexion. 

Shion laughed and turned his head to glance behind him, making eye contact with his mom -- of course, Shion knew she’d be eavesdropping -- and shook his head when she ducked away from the window into the kitchen. 

“What do you want to do? I didn’t really plan anything -- thought you wouldn’t show up again, honestly,” Shion said sheepishly.

Once day three passed Shion was sure he’d never see Nezumi again. He thought he’d been right -- he’d scared Nezumi off once he gave him time to actually think about it, and Shion felt stupid for being disappointed. But now here he was, in the flesh, wearing the same outfit he always did, the same expression he always did, with the same intensity he always had, and Shion couldn’t be happier. 

The man huffed. "You _would_ ask me on a date and then not plan anything at all. We can just wander around and look at Christmas lights or something, or … I don’t _know_ ; I’m not very good at this dating thing, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Are we _dating_?” Shion teased.

Nezumi looked back with a flat stare. “I want to pour hot coffee on you.”

“Eight it is!” Shion grinned. 

Nezumi sighed and nodded, but Shion didn’t fail to notice the shift in his eyes once Shion agreed. He was excited whether he wanted to admit it or not, and Shion knew it. 

“Good,” Nezumi said, picking at the leather on his sleeve, “I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.”

Shion knew he was serious about that, having a feeling if he showed up a minute past eight, Nezumi would take it as an excuse to run back upstairs and never come out again.

The man began to turn away and Shion quickly reached out to catch his wrist, loosening his grip when Nezumi jumped at the touch.

“You’re not gonna order anything -- stick around for awhile?” Shion asked, trying his hardest to mask his disappointment, which was dumb, considering he’d be seeing him again later. 

Nezumi glanced down at his wrist in Shion’s hand, like it was some foreign object he’d never seen before, then looked back up, smirking.

“I’m so irresistible you want me around all morning _and_ night? I’m gonna be late for work, genius.”

Shion looked up at the clock. Crap. Well now he felt clingy and embarrassed, even while pointedly ignoring Nezumi’s teasing.

Shion yanked his hand away. "Right! Sorry, I should’ve known that; you’re here later than usual …”

Nezumi looked back at him with an expression Shion couldn’t read, but he’d grown used to that, adding it to his mental gallery of the many exciting faces of Nezumi. He seemed to have a set few: blank, bored, annoyed, and pissed. 

“Well, have a good day at work,” Shion said, not wanting to hold him back any longer than necessary, “I’ll see you tonight.” 

The man’s face softened and Shion felt a sudden lump in his throat.

“Thanks,” Nezumi said quietly, “you too." The smallest hint of a smile forming on his face, and then he was gone. 

Shion watched as the man walked out the door, holding his bangs down when the wind blew in his face, and frowning as he disappeared around the corner in a flash of black and grey.

“A date, huh?”

Shion jumped and put a hand over his chest to steady his heartbeat; he’d been so distracted by Nezumi fixing his _hair_ he didn’t even notice his mom sneaking up beside him. 

“Maybe,” Shion shrugged after a moment, suddenly feeling the need to open the register and organize everything in it. 

“ _Maybe_ ,” she repeated with a knowing smile, “so you’re just picking up the cute boy you’ve been stressing over tonight for no reason?” she wiped down the counter as she spoke.

“I don’t have to tell you. I saw you spying behind me in the kitchen.”

“Just making sure he wouldn’t punch you in the face like you thought he would earlier,” she smiled, playfully hitting him with her rag before making her way back to the kitchen, “because if he did, well, I’d just have to hit him back.” 

Shion hoped that wasn’t something that he’d ever have to deal with, but the thought of his mom trying to pick a fight made him laugh anyways. 

“You should tell Safu!” she called once inside, “she’s great with dating advice -- maybe she’ll get some sort of read on him you haven’t yet.” 

Shion snorted at that. He already knew for a fact Safu would be far from Nezumi’s number one fan. “You’re supposed to go on dates with people who are kind to you! He seems short-tempered and childish. I’m failing to see the appeal here,” he could already hear it.

Safu was logical, and Shion was too, absolutely, but he was also emotional, and that was something Safu couldn’t relate to in the slightest. 

She obviously _felt_ emotion, though. She loved Shion with all her heart, often texting him, _angry_ , about what she’d dealt with at work, and she _was_ great at giving dating advice, but not because it’s something she’s experienced firsthand -- because she’s learned from what she’s read and observed. That's just the kind of person she was, and Shion loved her for it. She was different, unique, matter-of-fact, and if anyone were to punch Shion in the face, it would likely be her. 

He felt himself reaching into his pocket for his phone without even thinking about, opening up a new text.

To: **Safu**

_come to bakery. i have news._

From: **Safu**

_you’re pregnant?_

Shion rolled his eyes.

To: **Safu**

_yes, i need help picking names …_

From: **Safu**

_okay, keep the gender a surprise until i’m there. omw now._

Shion spent the next fifteen minutes washing cups and taking orders, rolling dough and wiping tables until the bell above the door chimed. 

Shion looked up the second it did -- Safu striding confidently toward the counter in her work clothes. She taught at the university nearby and Shion still giggled to himself every time he saw her in any sort of formal attire; she would always be the twelve year old in ugly sweaters to him.

“So is it a boy or a girl?” were the first words out of her mouth.

“What?” his mom called from the kitchen -- Shion ignored her.

“I have a date tonight.” 

Safu’s shoulders dropped and her expression morphed into one that could only be described as, “ _oh, here we go …_ ”

“With the guy who wanted to beat you up,” she said.

Shion sighed. "He didn’t want to beat me up. I just … thought he was going to, but he didn’t! He’s not like that. I’m dramatic.”

“Mhm,” Safu mumbled, clearly not convinced, “right. What’s his name? What are you guys gonna do tonight? Make sure it’s somewhere _public_. I’m sure that ‘he’s going to beat me up’ feeling didn’t come from nothing and the last thing I need is you _dying_ , especially due to some dumb, last minute decision, and, oh, does he have a jo-”

“Safu.”

“Well, I’m just asking, because if he doesn’t have a job, he doesn’t make any money, and if he doesn’t make any money, that means you’ll be the one paying for all of the dates, and I just think that’s _rude-_ ”

“Safu.”

Safu stared at him.

“I worry about you.”

Shion laughed and rested his arms on the counter. "Really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Safu pinched the bridge of her nose then looked back at Shion. "Well, take a break right now. Let’s sit and talk about it. I want all the details. Well, no." She made a face. " _Most_ of them.”

Shion looked over the bakery to make sure there weren’t any lingering customers waiting to order and lead Safu to the nearest open table, her shoes clicking obnoxiously against the floor as she followed him. 

Once seated she sat up straight with her hands folded in front of her on the table, like she was about to be presented some sort of report, and not ridiculous word-vomit about Shion’s current love life.

“Name,” she said.

Shion sat back. “I feel like I’m being interrogated.”

“Because you are,” she smiled, “now … Tell me! I want to know who you’re inevitably going to be obsessed with.”

Shion scoffed and folded his arms. “I don’t get _obsessed_.” 

Her expression softened. "You just end up caring a little more than you maybe should about people sometimes, that’s all.” 

Shion opened his mouth to argue but closed it shortly after, because he knew she was right. He did care too much about people sometimes -- she’d witnessed that many times with Shion’s past relationships, and even _friendships_. He couldn’t help it; Shion believed everybody deserved that extra ounce of caring and kindness, because they likely wouldn’t receive it from anybody else. Sure, it took a toll on him at times, but Shion didn’t mind.

“His name’s Nezumi, and he’s probably the most interesting and beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life,” Shion said simply, because it was true. 

Safu’s eyes widened. "That makes me nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that about anyone before.”

“He’s different!” Shion said louder than he intended, looking around to make sure no one was staring, “seriously ... He’s like no one else.”

She looked at him for a moment with a strange expression. 

“Nez … _umi_ …,” she said slowly, “what makes him so interesting?”

Shion shrugged and traced his fingers along the table before he answered. "He’s like an enigma, and every time he leaves I question whether or not he was actually there because he just doesn’t seem _real_. He draws me in. Maybe you’d have to meet him to get it … I just feel like he has secrets, and I want to know about him -- I want to _know him_ ,” he corrected.

Shion thought that description was a little too vague, but couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. He barely knew anything about this man, their first date still to come, but he felt close to him already. Not close _enough_ though; Shion was well aware Nezumi was keeping him at a distance, but hoped he could close that space soon enough -- truly _know_ him.

“He sounds creepy,” Safu folded her arms.

Shion laughed. “I knew you would say that.”

“Because I’m right!” She sat forward, her stomach pressing into the table. “What do you mean _secrets_? Serial killer kind of secretes, or what? Shouldn’t you get to know someone _before_ you go on dates with them?”

“Dates can be to get to know someone too!” Shion defended, “who knows, maybe tonight I’ll find out he’s wearing a lucky pair of socks he hasn’t taken off to wash in months and I’ll never want to speak to him again.” 

“Oh, please.” Safu rolled her eyes. "Getting to spend more than ten minutes with him is gonna send you reeling. I already know; you’re gonna be writing your names in hearts on a napkin by tomorrow morning … smelly socks or not.”

Once again, Shion had no argument, and all his silence did was make Safu laugh.

“Well,” she said and looked down at her watch, “I have forty minutes until my free period is over. Get me a coffee and I’ll stay for awhile.”

Shion chuckled and shook his head, standing up from his seat anyways. "Sure thing, boss.” 

The next half hour was spent discussing Safu’s work troubles and her drilling Shion with questions about ‘the mysterious Nezumi’. She seemed to be under the impression Shion knew so much, when he’d already made it abundantly clear he knew so little.

“Have you tried talking to him after class?” Shion asked, listening to Safu as she ranted about an annoying student of hers.

Sometimes Shion wished he had these problems to complain about, a job like that to complain about, but he knew it was his own fault that he didn’t, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. 

“Yes, and he still does it every time! I give him a test, he doesn’t study, he inevitably fails, and then emails me asking if I can bump his grade up, not by actually studying for once in his life and retaking it, but just _because_ …,” she cut herself off, running a hand through her hair, “these kids pay for these classes, you think the least they would do is put in _some_ effort.”

Shion could tell she was flustered and pouted at her, trying to think of what he could do to help.

“Enough about me though,” she insisted, “you called me over to talk about you scary crush, so let’s talk more about your scary crush.”

Shion chose to ignore the ‘scary’ part.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know a lot! I’d like to find out more though, maybe tonight. I want him to feel comfortable around me, like he doesn’t have to have his guard up at all times. I can tell it’s sort of an act, and it has to be tiring constantly putting on a front.”

Safu sighed and took a sip of her coffee, then gently set it back down. "You seem to have quite the track record of picking the most difficult people.”

Shion didn’t like the way that was worded at all.

“He’s not difficult,” he frowned, “he’s not. He just has things going on … we all do.”

Safu raised an eyebrow. "Some more than others.” 

“Some more than others,” Shion agreed.

Deep down, Shion knew this was somewhat true. Being around Nezumi created complications already, and dating him would probably be another type of intense altogether, but he was prepared for that. Nezumi had things he needed to sort through like everybody in the world; he just wasn’t going through the process correctly, it seemed.

The two fell into a comfortable silence then, the clinks of glasses touching tables and the chatter of those around them filling the space.

Shion anxiously bounced his leg and stared off into space, completely zoning out on the wall across the room as he thought about what might happen later that night.

Shion was surprised Nezumi had picked looking at lights as a date, willingly asking to spend time with Shion, time where there was nothing but them and room for plenty of conversation. He expected him to pick something like the movies, where the two could be in each other’s presence, but not speak much, so Nezumi could have a chance to warm up to him.

He was confident Nezumi would change his mind once he picked him up, totally opting for a movie or play instead, but hoped he wouldn’t. Shion hoped he could spend all night talking to the man -- talking about nothing and everything all at once. The things that didn’t matter, and the things that mattered most.

The silence was only broken once Safu had to leave.

“Good luck on your date,” she said as she stood up, tilting her head back to finish off her coffee, “and if you need anymore outfit advice, just text me,” she smirked.

“Of course,” Shion said, shaking himself from his daydream, “expect a text in a few hours asking for advice I won’t take at all.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled, reaching out for a brief hug before making her way towards the exit. 

“Have fun grading papers all day!” he called.

Safu just waved a hand as she walked out the door, her shoes click-clacking as she went. 

Shion stared at the door for a moment after she left, still having hours to spare before it was time to pick up Nezumi.

He was buzzing with an anticipation and nervousness he’d never felt, and all he could think to do to pass the time now was wash dishes and stress like he never had before.

*

This was not supposed to happen.

He had a plan for his life, and he was supposed to stick to it. A life with strict guidelines to bypass the inevitable disappointment, and now here he was, breaking his number one rule, and feeling like he was going to vomit.

But he was going to follow through anyways, because it was Shion, and why that was so important, Nezumi had no idea, but it meant something.

And even though he felt more nauseous than he’d ever felt before, his upper lip sweating, and his hands balling up into fists, his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own recently, saying things and agreeing to things his brain was telling him to go against completely. He had a brief moment where he thought maybe this _was_ the right thing to do; that’s why he wasn’t thinking before he spoke to Shion, because all of this was supposed to happen.

But he knew that wasn’t true. Agreeing to go on a date with Shion was probably the worst decision he’s ever made, but now here he stood, right in front of his bathroom mirror, fixing his hair and feeling like the world was going to implode. 

“This isn’t me,” he said to himself as he redid his ponytail, “this isn’t supposed to be happening.”

He could back out now. He could search for the bakery’s number and call, tell Karan to break the news to her son that Nezumi wouldn’t be going with him tonight. He could lie and say he broke his leg, or he had a family emergency. 

Then an image of Shion’s face flashed in his mind, full of disappointment and sadness, and Nezmi felt his stomach twist. 

He had to go. He couldn’t ruin Shion’s night like that, even though just the other day he would’ve done so with no remorse or hesitation whatsoever, but it seemed like a switch had been flipped since then. And deep down in the pit of his emotions, he was well aware he liked Shion, just a little bit, and that’s the biggest reason he was so pissed off with himself.

Why else would he have agreed if he didn’t? 

Nezumi was a full-blown moron, an absolute nitwit, and he knew if anybody were watching over him, they were shaking their head at him in frustration for going through with something so idiotic. Something that could only end badly. 

Even Inukashi had laughed in his face the morning after they’d witnessed his and Shion’s interaction, further solidifying the fact that this was a stupid idea. The stupidest idea ever, Nezumi thought. 

“The aloof Nezumi!” they’d shouted, “going on a _date_! You guys gonna make out when he drops you off? I get to see that show too?”

It took everything in him not to punt Inukashi into the sun. 

Nezumi grabbed his phone out of his pocket and groaned once he saw the time. Only ten minutes until Shion would be there, and he contemplated lying on the floor and hugging the toilet for a good five of those just in case he did vomit.

He shook his arms and hands out, trying to physically throw the anxiety off his body to prepare for the next few hours. He knew he should go downstairs now, Shion didn’t know his apartment number, but his feet felt glued to the floor.

A lump in his throat grew and his heart started racing, and before he knew it, his feet were moving for him and he was headed to his front door, his leather jacket squeaking louder than usual, filling his head -- driving him crazy. 

He stopped once he got there, his hand resting on the doorknob. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm the fuck down for once.

He could even back out now. Call Karan with a lame excuse, go down and face Shion himself and tell him he changed his mind. Or he could just not go down at all, never see Shion again. 

No, he couldn’t do any of those.

“Grow up,” he growled, and swung the door open. 

It was time to face his fears. 

*

“Flowers … You got me flowers.”

“I had to, it’s a date.” 

Shion looked up at him with a lopsided smile, swimming in his long coat, and Nezumi felt his chest tighten. 

He was expecting more desserts, since Shion seemed to have an endless supply, but _flowers_? What was he supposed to do with them? Let them die in his apartment? … He secretly thought it was sweet nonetheless. 

“Yeah, a date, not _prom_ … Thank you,” Nezumi replied, flustered. 

“You’re welcome,” Shion beamed, moving his messy hair out of his eyes, “I thought you were gonna make fun of me for getting roses.” 

Nezumi began walking and Shion followed suit, making his way slowly toward … he didn’t know where, but he felt uncomfortable standing there knowing Inukashi was definitely staring. 

“Oh, I am in my head. Roses … very cliche.” 

Nezumi didn’t really mind though. Roses held meaning and were nice to look at. If Shion had gotten him something like _black_ roses, to be different, or because Nezumi just seemed so _dark_ and _mysterious_ , he probably would’ve thrown them in the trash right there. 

“That’s what I was waiting for,” Shion giggled, and Nezumi felt the corners of his mouth turn up even when he tried to stop it. 

Nezumi knew he suggested something lame for their first date and didn’t really have any idea where he was going, only choosing a walk because he didn’t leave his house enough to know what else there was to do in the city. He wasn’t going to tell Shion that though. He just hoped Shion was content with walking around, and that he wouldn’t speak too much either.

Nezumi glanced over at the man as they walked along to their destination of nowhere, noticing the way his nose pointed upwards, the way his eyes squinted from the cold air, the way the Christmas lights dangling from apartments above made his hair look red, blue, green. 

“You’re staring at me,” Shion smirked, eyes still facing forward.

Nezumi immediately tore his eyes away, putting his head down to look at his much more interesting shoes avoiding cracks in the sidewalk. 

“You look weird,” Nezumi shrugged. 

Shion threw his head back and laughed and Nezumi suppressed the urge to fling himself into oncoming traffic. 

“I get that a lot,” Shion replied, still smiling despite just having his appearance insulted. Nezumi was correct from day one -- weird look to match a weird personality, “you gonna ask about it?”

“About what?”

He knew Shion was waiting for Nezumi to ask why he looked the way he did, why he looked like no one Nezumi had ever seen in his life, but Nezumi wasn’t one to pry, and he didn’t care enough about anyone to ask questions either, usually.

“About why I look straight out of _Twilight_.”

It was Nezumi who laughed then; he couldn’t help it, because, well … Yeah. 

Shion was staring at him now, and Nezumi immediately felt himself getting red, pulling up his jacket to cover the heat crawling up his neck once he stopped. 

“I don’t really care,” lie, “but you can tell me if you want.” 

“Genetic mutation,” Shion replied, walking closer to Nezumi now and he had to resist the urge to bump hands, pretending like he didn’t mean to at all. 

“Genetic mutation?”

“Just born this way,” Shion said proudly, looking up at him as he knocked his hip against Nezumi’s. 

“Oh,” he frowned, ignoring the shock that went through his body, “way less exciting than I expected. I thought it was going to be more along the lines of a freak accident in a nuclear plant.”

Nezumi had many questions to ask after that, of course: “Is there a name for it? Was the scar a part of it, or did you get that later in life? Were you ever bullied for it as a kid? Are you happy with the way you look? You should be.” 

But he kept his mouth shut. 

“Well, I sincerely apologize for not being exciting enough for you.”

Nezumi's eyes widened. "That’s not what I … Whatever, you knew what I meant.” 

The last thing Nezumi knew how to do was comfort someone, so he looked down at the roses in his right hand instead, ready to tease Shion over whether or not his mom helped pick them out at the grocery store, but then Shion was intertwining his fingers with Nezumi’s and he felt like he’d swallowed his tongue. 

Shion’s hand sat firmly in his, shockingly warm against his cold skin, like the warmth that surrounded him in the bakery never left, followed him everywhere he went, like this was no big deal at all, like this was something they did all the time. 

He felt like he was burning up, hyper aware of how his own hand covered Shion’s almost completely, and of the gentle squeeze Shion gave him when he seemed to sense Nezumi’s nervousness. 

Nezumi didn’t say anything though, and neither did Shion. He’d let this one be for once. He could do that; he wanted to do that. It was a date after all. Hand holding was to be expected.

The two continued walking in silence for awhile, Nezumi focusing entirely on the man beside him rather than his surroundings, and how his skin felt against his, willing himself not to cause a scene, but to just accept it, and run with it like a normal person would. Though he was sure anyone would be just as nervous about holding Shion’s hand, and this was the first time he’d ever held hands with anyone besides his … mom. 

It was like the two didn’t need to talk. There was no push for unnecessary conversation, though he was sure Shion wanted to make some anyways. It’s like without saying a word, Nezumi could feel what Shion was saying to him: “I’m here, calm down, turn left here, turn right there,” and Nezumi just followed. 

He did slowly begin to notice the streets becoming more crowded after a few blocks though, noticing more feet next to his as he kept his head down, and the amount of noise growing every few seconds, wondering if they were getting close to where all of the clubs in the area were. 

“Is this what you meant by ‘look at the lights’?” Shion asked.

Confused, Nezumi finally looked up from the sidewalk and was suddenly blinded by the most obnoxious Christmas decorations he’d ever seen in his life.

The New York Winter Fair.

The sign was massive and could easily be read from about two hundred feet away, two giant lit up snowmen towering over the street next to it. No wonder there were so many people here, they were in the parking zone, and it was like Santa threw up all over the place. 

From what Nezumi could see, it was _huge_ , and he had no idea how he hadn’t heard about this happening tonight. Just a peek into it from so far away he could make out a mini ice skating rink, a ferris wheel, and multiple screaming kids.

This was definitely far from Nezumi’s idea of a perfect first date. 

“No,” Nezumi said, “no, no. I hate this already. Lets go to a movie or something.”

Shion cackled. “I knew you would chicken out and want to go to a movie. _C’mon,_ ” he pleaded and turned to face Nezumi, grabbing onto what he could of Nezumi’s other hand while being careful not to crush the flowers, “it looks fun! We can just walk around and get gross concession stand food.”

“I don’t have any money,” Nezumi said, staring at their hands.

“I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“I’m not letting you pay for anything. I can get my own ticket.”

“You just said you didn’t have any money.”

“I lied. I don’t wanna go.”

“Nezumi!”

“What?”

Shion let go of his hands then, and Nezumi missed them immediately. 

He was expecting some sort of rant from Shion after that, an incoherent explanation about how they _have_ to go to the winter fair because it's _so_ much fun, and he’s _never_ been, and Nezumi would _love_ it, but he just ... stared at him. With this look, this _look_ , and Nezumi had no idea what to do with that. He wanted to smack him, but also hug him, and maybe grab onto his hand again. 

“It’d mean a lot to me if we went,” was all he said, and, well ... 

*

The line for cotton candy was the closest thing to hell Nezumi’s experienced in a long time. 

They’d already been here ten minutes and there were still three people ahead of them. Nezumi had no fucking idea why it took so long to swirl sugar onto a stick, but here they were. 

It was also freezing and Nezumi was surprised it wasn’t snowing for real, his nose bright red because of it. He turned and looked at the fake snow machine across the street, blowing chemicals and plastic into the sky. He was sure the weather would trick some kid into thinking it was real eventually, inevitably trying to spell their name in it with their piss. 

Then to top it off, the kid behind them sneezed so aggressively it took everything in Nezumi not to convulse with disgust, his snot flying a good foot in front of him.

“This is fun for you?” Nezumi asked.

Shion grinned, blending perfectly into the scenery behind him, full of snowmen and reindeer, like he was some sort of sparkling Christmas elf. 

“Everyone around me is having fun, so I’m having fun,” he said. 

Nezumi didn’t think that made any sense. His whole life was just him surrounded by people having fun, and he was the only one not having any at all. The whole world partying while he sat alone by the punch bowl.

Nezumi just looked at him for a moment, then back towards the stand, because he couldn’t think of any response that wouldn’t end with Shion calling him a cynical bastard. 

Once they _finally_ had their cotton candy, Shion insisting Nezumi get one too, even though he knew he’d just pick at it, they scoured the festival for an empty bench, Nezumi groaning in relief when they finally found one.

“I can’t believe we’re at the cutest fair I’ve ever been to, and you don’t want to go on _one_ ride,” Shion said, Nezumi trying his hardest to ignore their knees touching. 

“If you want me to get sick and projectile vomit all over you and these little roses, be my guest, but I’m not a carnival ride kind of guy.” 

Shion studied his face for a minute too long, Nezumi beginning to feel like he was crawling out of his skin.

“I’m not sure what kind of guy you are at all,” he finally said, shoving an exorbitant amount of cotton candy into his mouth. 

“Good. That means I’m doing something right.”

Shion grumbled something Nezumi couldn’t hear, his mouth still full.

“Don’t be gross,” Nezumi said. He thought a woman like Karan would’ve taught her son some _manners,_ but apparently he was wrong. 

Shion lightly kicked at Nezumi’s foot in return. "What part of ‘I want to get to know you’ don’t you understand? I was serious about that.”

“And what part of ‘you talk too much’ do _you_ not understand, because I’m pretty sure I told you that too. More than once,” Nezumi replied, picking off a piece of candy and shoving it in Shion’s face so he would _stop_.

Shion rolled his eyes and took the candy out of Nezumi’s hand. “I don’t know why I’m putting up with you,” he chuckled, swinging his feet back and forth now, “well, no, I do, but it’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Nezumi wasn’t even going to bother asking what the hell that meant, but he’s sure it was stupid. Shion seemed like a smart guy; he was probably right. 

He was aware he was beginning to sound like a bigger dick than he needed to be, going from hand-holding to bickering probably confusing the hell out of Shion, but he didn’t really care right now. The last thing he wanted was to be 'figured out'. He didn’t need to be 'figured out' on the first date. It’s not like they were going steady. He didn’t need to be dissected and analyzed.

The two sat and watched the twinkling lights of the ferris wheel and decorations surrounding them, the figure eights being scratched into the ice rink filling his head as he still tried to ignore Shion’s _knee_ touching _his_. He hated this, he really did.

“Well, what is fun to you? Do you want to ice skate?” Shion asked, his head leaning to the side like an inquisitive puppy. 

“Believe it or not, I don’t think I’d feel entirely comfortable being around _you_ with _blades_ on your feet.”

Shion bit his lip to suppress a smile. "Understandable. Prepare yourself, I got another one…” 

Great.

“What do you _usually_ do for fun? What does the mysterious Nezumi do when he’s not drinking gross coffee in my bakery?”

“ _Your_ bakery? Don’t make me call your mother …” 

Shion just shook his head and propped his elbow up on the back of the bench, clearly waiting for a serious response, which annoyed Nezumi to no end. Why did this kid have to come into his life asking so many goddamn questions?

Nezumi ignored the feeling, imaginary, he knew, of his throat closing up and the air around him getting incredibly thick, forcing himself to breathe, calm down. He could answer a question, it wasn’t the end of the world. But it sure felt like it. 

“Read ... Write, sometimes,” he responded, feeling like his jacket was suddenly way too tight.

That was about as in depth as he planned on going with all of his answers for the rest of the night; he didn’t need Shion triggering some sort of mental breakdown for him. 

He wasn’t going to tell him about the stories he’s tried to write endless times, only to shred them to bits because they were no good, or about the scripts he’s picked up from playhouses to practice alone in his apartment, only to panic and burn them over his stove.

Because he’d rather suffer than allow himself to indulge in anything that could bring him happiness for even a second -- because happiness was fleeting, and Nezumi didn’t want to deal with anymore bullshit than he already was.

“You write?” Shion sat up like it was the most exciting thing he’d ever heard, Nezumi actually _sharing_ something about himself. “Do you do any art? You work at a craft store, so I thought you might.” 

“Read more than I write -- just do it to pass the time. The library wasn’t hiring.” 

The noises around them seemed to be getting louder.

“Do you want to be an author?” Nezumi wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear the smile in Shion’s voice, and that alone made him feel like he had to close his eyes for some reason. 

“Actor.”

He felt weird. Floaty. Like his body couldn’t handle this intense, irrational amount of stress due to the situation, so he was disconnecting completely. 

Shion opened his mouth to speak, but Nezumi cut him off before he could. "Could you hold my hand again and talk about something else?”

Shion looked taken aback at the request, like he expected Nezumi to say anything but that. Which made sense. Nezumi just desperately needed something at the moment to keep him grounded, remind him where he was and that he wasn’t _dying_ , that none of this was a big deal.

He needed Shion to hold him down, just for a minute, like an odd looking paperweight. 

Shion nodded immediately, a look of wonder on his face as he latched onto Nezumi’s hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Nezumi nodded appreciatively and closed his eyes again, squeezing Shion’s hand so hard he was worried he might break his fingers, but for some reason, he was certain Shion didn’t care.

This time he welcomed the sound of children throwing tantrums and popcorn popping in the machine behind him, letting the sounds fill his mind and drown out anything else that decided to show up and make him feel awful. 

“Tell me about you,” Nezumi finally said, quietly.

He felt the man shift next to him, and he knew he was in for a long ride full of erratic nonsense, not sure if he’d actually pay too much attention to what was being said, but it was too late now. 

He just hoped Shion didn’t quiz him on it later.

“Well, I’m twenty-four, I grew up in Japan, my favorite color is green, I’ve seen _Titanic_ fifteen times, I …” 

*

They held hands all the way home too.

Nezumi let Shion keep talking and talking the whole way back, going on and on about where he went to school, what for (“ecology!”), that he’d been considering dying his hair brown (Nezumi hated that idea), that he loved David Bowie, that he had three dogs growing up. 

How he was able to give all of this out with no qualms whatsoever, Nezumi had no idea. He wasn’t used to it, but it was a good change of pace for the time being. 

The pavement was damp now, soaking in the light drizzle that settled in just a few minutes before they arrived, and Nezumi just _knew_ it was going to make his hair frizzy. He hadn’t even checked the time once while they were out either, but the amount of drunks across the street harassing people at the nearby bar signified it was getting pretty late.

Nezumi was practically dragging his feet by the time they got to his building, Shion growing increasingly worried Nezumi was getting sick with every cough into his arm. 

The cold air filling his throat and lungs, feeling like they were freezing over, and being surrounded by snot-ridden kids probably didn’t help much either. 

“We should’ve gone to a movie, you were right,” Shion whined, “you’re sick, and the fair made you worse.”

Nezumi sighed, growing irritated when it got cut off by another cough, “I’m fine, don’t baby me.”

“Give me your phone.”

Nezumi frowned. "Why?”

With no explanation, Shion reached forward to grab Nezumi’s phone from his pocket, Nezumi jumping back immediately and pulling it out himself. “I got it, Jesus Christ.”

Shion smiled gleefully and took it from Nezumi’s hand, opening it up and typing away.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on.”

“What are you doing?”

“One _second_.”

“What are you-”

“There!” Shion shouted, finally handing it back, “my number. I sent myself a text so I have yours too. So, if you are sick and need me to get anything for you, you can just let me know ... Or so you can text me any other time. If you want,” he added nervously. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

What did this guy thing he was, _five_? Nezumi was fully capable of sleeping a few extra hours and cracking open a can of chicken soup if need be; he didn’t need to call for help. 

“Your health is important!” 

“It’s a cold,” Nezumi said with a blank stare, “you’re insane.”

Shion just grinned back, the sleeves of his sweater covering his hands and raindrops falling off the ends of his hair. Absolutely insane. 

“An insane person that you need, apparently, because I’m not going to let you refuse help, and if you need anything, you’ll _let me know_ ,” Shion said, poking Nezumi’s chest, hard, to emphasize his last words. 

“Fine,” Nezumi agreed just to shut him up, rubbing at the spot where Shion’s bony fingers nearly _punctured_ him, “but don’t expect me to-”

Shion stood on his toes then, his hands pressed against Nezumi’s shoulders, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, the only sound being the rain hitting the pavement and the plastic covering of the roses crinkling between their chests. 

“Uh.”

Nezumi forgot what he was saying.

“I did that to shut you up, because I think the more you talk, the more you stress yourself out.” 

Nezumi brought a hand up to caress the side of his face, not like he’d been kissed, but like he’d been punched, the feeling of Shion’s lips lingering as if it’d been seared into his skin. 

“Did it work too well? I think I broke you."

“I need to lie down,” is all Nezumi said, which he definitely didn’t mean to, and of course, Shion laughed at him. 

Shortly after, once Nezumi was able to function again, they exchanged their goodbyes, Nezumi secretly hoping for another kiss on the cheek, but also hoping he wouldn’t be touched again at all for fear of collapsing. 

They opted for one last hand squeeze instead, and then Shion was on his merry way.

“Make sure you put those things in water!” Shion shouted, but not turning to face him, once at the end of the sidewalk.

“Anything for you,” Nezumi called sarcastically, and then Shion was gone around the corner, leaving Nezumi in silence.

Nezumi stood there for awhile, watching the sidewalk Shion just walked down, letting the rain plaster his hair to his forehead and drip down the back of his shirt.

A date.

He just went on a date.

A _date_ , and yes it really happened, he had the flowers and a sick feeling in his stomach to prove it. 

How the hell did this happen?

After a solid five minutes of staring at nothing and trying to regain his footing, confirm the world around him was in fact reality and this wasn’t all some fucked up dream, he finally made his way into the building, thankful Inukashi hadn’t said a word to him -- because he had the strangest feeling that if anybody tried to talk to him about what just happened, he might cry.

He trudged through the hallway, like a ghost haunting the complex, still not sure whether to feel angry with himself, proud, or just depressed. Nezumi didn’t think he’d have that figured out until tomorrow, or maybe five years from now. 

He shoved his key inside the lock, jiggling it around to make it fit correctly, because it never did, and shoved his door open. This time he shut it behind himself gently, staring out into his empty, dark apartment, unsure what the next step was.

Should he text him goodnight? No, that would be annoying. 

Would they go on a date again anytime soon? Nezumi kind of hoped they wouldn’t.

He leaned his body against the door and slowly slid down it, like he was in some dramatic movie and just received terrible news at the hospital, his body now a lanky heap on the floor. 

It was like his social battery had been drained to zero, which happened after most interactions anyways, making this feel like his power source had been ripped straight out of his chest.

He turned onto his side, letting his hair dangle in his face as the silhouettes of his furniture began to take shape. His body already ached from walking so much and his developing cold, the wooden floor only making it worse, yet he still felt like he could sleep there all night.

Nezumi groaned and turned onto his back again. "Nothing makes sense.”

Shion had been so kind, so caring, so open, and it’s like Nezumi’s body was rejecting it completely. He couldn’t handle it. This was all too much too fast, and he knew he should’ve ignored Shion the night he met up with him outside his work.

Then Nezumi could’ve just gone home, gone to bed, and never seen him again, moving on with his life as it always was, much less dramatic.

But nothing was ever that easy. Nezumi was painfully aware of this. 

And then his phone buzzed.

“Stop,” Nezumi grumbled to no one. He was done with tonight.

He wrestled with his skinny jeans to yank the phone out of his back pocket, throwing a fit on the floor while he wiggled it out. 

Nezumi already knew who it was; he didn’t text anybody other than Rikiga, but if he was wrong and it _was_ Rikiga telling him to come in early the next morning, he was going to kick his fucking ass.

His phone screen lit up like a beacon in the pitch black room, making him squint to make out any of the message. 

_i had fun tonight. hope you did too. if u want to do this again, please don’t wait another four days before you tell me … xx_

_P.S. put those roses in water. like, right now_ , it said.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nezumi mumbled to his phone, already typing out a message he knew he’d regret. 

He was exhausted. Probably more tired than he’s ever been in his entire life, convinced more now than ever Shion was lying about this ‘genetic mutation’ and really used his supernatural powers to suck the life out of him via hand holding. 

Send. 

_I had fun too. You’ll see me again in less than four days, clingy. Goodnight._

He cursed at himself for being so stupid, his fingers for typing that out, his body for feeling like shit, and at the driver that crashed through his old coffee shop. 

And then he finally forced himself off the dirty floor, dragging himself to the kitchen.

So he could put these flowers in some fucking water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take WAY too long to get these chapters written, and this one isn't even that long :'( I'm sorry guys!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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